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 stairs 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 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