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 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 independent means;
We're ride in limousines that their chauffeurs would drive
When I was thirty-five.
And now the days are short, I'm in the autumn of my years,
And now I think of my life as vintage wines
In fine old kegs;
From the brim to the dregs, they pour sweet and clear...
It was a very good year.