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



Then 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