When I was seventeen It was a very good year It was a very good year For small town boys 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 boys 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 boys 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 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