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 perfumed 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 independant 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 the old kegs, from the brim to the dregs it poured sweet and clear; it was a very good year!