| When I was seventeen, it was a very good year. |
| It was a very good year for
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| small town girl and soft summer night.
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| We’d hide from the light on the village green when I was seventeen.
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| When I was twenty-one, it was a very good year. |
| It was a very good year for
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| city girl who lived up the stairs
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| With perfume hair that came undone when I was twenty-one.
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| When I was thirty-five, it was a very good year. |
| It was a very good year for
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| blue-blooded girls of independent means.
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| We’d ride in limousines. |
| Their chauffeurs would drive when I was thirty-five.
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| 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
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| From the brim to the dregs. |
| It poured sweet and clear. |
| It was a very good year. |