When I was 17, 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 17 When I was 21, 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 21 When I was 35, 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 35 But now the days are short, I'm in the autumn of my years 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