When I was seventeen

It was a very good year

It was a very good year for small town girls

And soft summer nights

Wed 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

Wed ride in limousines

Their chauffeurs would drive

When I was thirty-five

But now the days grow short

Im 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