it was a very good year

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 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

we'd ride in limousines

their chauffeurs would drive

when i was thirty-five

but now the days grow 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

and it poured sweet and clear

it was a very good year

it was a mess of good years