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 Light 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 Perfume 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'd Ride In Limousines. Their Chauffeurs


Would Drive When I Was Thirty-five.


But Now The Days Are 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. It Poured


Sweet And Clear. It Was A Very Good Year