| Paul Young
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| It Was A Very Good Year
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| When I was seventeen, it was a very good year
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| It was a very good year for small town girls
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| And soft summer nights, we’d hide from the lights
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| On the village green, when I was seventeen
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| When I was twentyone, it was a very good year
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| It was a very good year for city girls
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| Who lived up the stair, with all that crazy hair
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| And it came undone, when I was twentyone
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| When I was thirtyfive, it was a very good year
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| It was a very good year for blue-blooded girls
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| Of independent means, we’d ride in limousines
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| Their chauffeur would drive, when I was thirtyfive
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| But when the days are short in the autumn of
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| the year
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| I will think of my life as vintage wine
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| From fine old kegs, from the brim to the dregs
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| Pouring sweet and clear, it was a very good year |