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 all that perfumed hair



And it 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 independent means



We'd ride in limousines



Their chauffeurs would drive



When I was thirty-five





But now the days grow short



I'm in the autumn of the year



And now I think of my life as vintage wine



From fine old kegs



From the brim to the dregs



And it poured sweet and clear



It was a very good year





It was a mess of good years