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 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?
And who's trying to act like he just in between?
The night isn't black, it can only be screened.
Don't bother looking, you're too blind to see,
Who's coming on like he wanted to be.
Who's saying baby, that don't mean a thing,
'Cause nowadays Clancy can't even sing.
 

And who's coming home on the old ninety five?
Who's got the feeling to keep him 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.
Who's saying baby, that don't mean a thing,
'Cause nowadays Clancy can't even sing.
Who's saying baby, that don't mean a thing,
'Cause nowadays Clancy can't even sing.

Writer : YOUNG, NEIL
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.