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 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 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.
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 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 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. Explain Request ×
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