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