God outa town on a boat from a southern islands,

Sail any reach before a followin' sea.

She was makin' for the trades on the outside and the downhill run to Poppacay pay,

Off the wind over this hedding-line over my pay suds, you got eighty feet o

The story:

Liked the song since it was on the top 40 when I was in my mid-twenties.

Finally heard the lyrics right after installing better tweeters in my stereo to compensate for middle-aged hearing.

I feel that Crosby, Stills & Nash were at least partly to blame for the garbled sound; they were probably as drunk as I was when they made this album.