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When I was seventeen |
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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 |
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We'd hide from the lights |
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On the village green |
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When I was seventeen |
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When I was twenty-one |
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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 |
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0With all that perfumed hair |
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And it came undone |
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When I was twenty-one |
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When I was thirty-five |
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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 |
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We'd ride in limousines |
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Their chauffeurs would drive |
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When I was thirty-five |
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But now the days grow short |
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I'm in the autumn of the year |
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And now I think of my life as vintage wine |
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From fine old kegs |
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From the brim to the dregs |
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And it poured sweet and clear |
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It was a very good year |