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
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