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From the tables down at Morey's |
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To the place where Louie dwells |
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And the dear old Temple Bar we love so well. |
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Sing the Whiffenpoofs assembled |
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With their glasses raised on high! |
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And the magic of their singin' casts a spell. |
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Yes, the magic of their singing |
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Of the songs we love so well |
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Shall I wasting and Mavourneen and the rest. |
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We will serenade our Louie |
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Till health and voices fail |
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And we'll pass and be forgotten with the rest. |
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We're poor little lambs |
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Who have lost our way |
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Baa, baa, baa |
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We're little black sheep |
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Who have gone astray |
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Baa, baa, baa. |
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Gentlemen songsters off on a spree |
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Doomed from here to eternity; |
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Oh Lord, have mercy on such as we |
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Baa, baa, baa. |
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Gentlemen songsters off on a spree |
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Doomed from here to eternity; |
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Oh Lord, have mercy on such as we |
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Baa, baa, baa... |