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!
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