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