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, that their chauffeurs would drive
When I was thirty-five

But now the days grow short, I'm in the autumn of my years
And now I think of my life as vintage wine from fine old kegs
But from the brim to the dregs, it poured sweet and clear
It was a very good year