Ervin Drake

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 perfumed hair that would come undone
When I was twenty-one

When I was thirty-five--very good year
It was a very good year for blue-blooded girls
Of independent means, we'd ride in limousines
Their cheuffers would drive
When I was thirty-five

And now the days grow short
I'm in the autumn of my life
And I think of it all as vintage wine from fine old kegs
From the brim to the dregs
It poured sweet and clear
It was a very good year

It was a very good year