When I was seventeen

it was a very good year,

It was a very good year

for small town girls

and soft summer nights.

We'd hide from the lights

on the village green

when I was seventeen.



When I was twenty-one,

it was a very good year,

it was a very good year

for city girls who lived up the stair,

with perfumed hair

that came undone,

when I was twenty-one.



When I was thirty-five

it was a very good year,

it was a very good year

for blue blooded girls

of independant means.

We'd ride in limousines

their chauffeurs would drive

when I was thirty-five.



But now the days are short,

I'm in the autumn of the year,

and now I think of my life as

vintage wine from the old kegs,

from the brim to the dregs

it poured sweet and clear;

it was a very good year!