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 light 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 stairs
With perfume 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 independent 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 fine old kegs
From the brim to the dregs
It poured sweet and clear
It was a very good year