It Was A Very Good Year

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 stairs 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 Who ride in limousines and their chauffeurs would drive When I was thirty-five When I was fifty-three it was a wonderful year It was a wonderful year to find a girl I'd call my own A place where I belong and she'd love only me When I was fifty-three But now the days grow 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, and it poured sweet and clear It was a very good year