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 grow 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 and it pours sweet and clear
It is a very good year

as sung by FRANK SINATRA


KAZ said...

Beautiful pictures - so well chosen.

Mel said...

(ya don't suppose she cares if I hum while she's taking orders do ya?)

*humming softly*

Spadoman said...

A fine song.

mig said...

Oh I love those old barrels. All the pictures are lovely and it's so nice to think back and remember good years. A good song.

Rimshot said...

hmmm, that stairwell reminds me of the post where you did some random thing and it ended up being your band name and the name of your album. What ever happened to that?

I, Like The View said...

shot I have it safely tucked away. . .

mig is it, isn't it! (nice to remember good years)

Man very fine indeed

Mel she doesn't mind at all

KAZ thanks! ps pop back over and collect something, will you please?!