| Song | Nowadays Clancy Can't Even Sing |
| Artist | Buffalo Springfield |
| Album | The Best Of Buffalo Springfield: Retrospective |
| 作词 : Young | |
| Who's that stomping all over my face | |
| Where's that silhouette I'm trying to trace | |
| Who's putting sponge in the bells I once rung | |
| And taking my gypsy before she's begun | |
| To singing in the meaning of what's in my mind | |
| Before I can take home what's rightfully mine | |
| Joinin' and listenin' and talkin' in rhymes | |
| Stoppin' the feeling to wait for the times | |
| Who's saying baby, that don't mean a thing | |
| 'Cause nowadays Clancy can't even sing | |
| And who's all hung-up on that happiness thing | |
| Who's trying to tune all the bells that he rings | |
| And who's in the corner and down on the floor | |
| With pencil and paper just counting the score | |
| Who's trying to act like he's just in between | |
| The line isn't black, if you know that it's green | |
| Don't bother looking, you're too blind to see | |
| Who's coming on like he wanted to be | |
| And who's coming home on the old nine-to-five | |
| Who's got the feeling that he came alive | |
| Though havin' it, sharin' it ain't quite the same | |
| It ain't no gold nugget, you can't lay a claim | |
| Who's seeing eyes through the crack in the floor | |
| There it is baby, don't you worry no more | |
| Who should be sleepin', but is writing this song | |
| Wishin' and a-hopin' he weren't so damned wrong |
| zuò cí : Young | |
| Who' s that stomping all over my face | |
| Where' s that silhouette I' m trying to trace | |
| Who' s putting sponge in the bells I once rung | |
| And taking my gypsy before she' s begun | |
| To singing in the meaning of what' s in my mind | |
| Before I can take home what' s rightfully mine | |
| Joinin' and listenin' and talkin' in rhymes | |
| Stoppin' the feeling to wait for the times | |
| Who' s saying baby, that don' t mean a thing | |
| ' Cause nowadays Clancy can' t even sing | |
| And who' s all hungup on that happiness thing | |
| Who' s trying to tune all the bells that he rings | |
| And who' s in the corner and down on the floor | |
| With pencil and paper just counting the score | |
| Who' s trying to act like he' s just in between | |
| The line isn' t black, if you know that it' s green | |
| Don' t bother looking, you' re too blind to see | |
| Who' s coming on like he wanted to be | |
| And who' s coming home on the old ninetofive | |
| Who' s got the feeling that he came alive | |
| Though havin' it, sharin' it ain' t quite the same | |
| It ain' t no gold nugget, you can' t lay a claim | |
| Who' s seeing eyes through the crack in the floor | |
| There it is baby, don' t you worry no more | |
| Who should be sleepin', but is writing this song | |
| Wishin' and ahopin' he weren' t so damned wrong |