You're the Top

                                  At words poetic, I'm so pathetic 

That I always have found it best, 

Instead of getting 'em off my chest, 

To let 'em rest unexpressed, 

I hate parading my serenading 

As I'll probably miss a bar, 

But if this ditty is not so pretty 

At least it'll tell you 

How great you are. 



You're the top! 

You're the Coliseum. 

You're the top! 

You're the Louver Museum. 

You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss 

You're a Bendel bonnet, 

A Shakespeare's sonnet, 

You're Mickey Mouse. 

You're the Nile, 

You're the Tower of Pisa, 

You're the smile on the Mona Lisa 

I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop, 

But if, baby, I'm the bottom you're the top! 



Your words poetic are not pathetic. 

On the other hand, babe, you shine, 

And I can feel after every line 

A thrill divine 

Down my spine. 

Now gifted humans like Vincent Youmans 

Might think that your song is bad, 

But I got a notion 

I'll second the motion 

And this is what I'm going to add; 



You're the top! 

You're Mahatma Gandhi. 

You're the top! 

You're Napoleon Brandy. 

You're the purple light 

Of a summer night in Spain, 

You're the National Gallery 

You're Garbo's salary, 

You're cellophane. 

You're sublime, 

You're turkey dinner, 

You're the time, the time of a Derby winner 

I'm a toy balloon that's fated soon to pop 

But if, baby, I'm the bottom, 

You're the top! 



You're the top! 

You're an arrow collar 

You're the top! 

You're a Coolidge dollar, 

You're the nimble tread 

Of the feet of Fred Astaire, 

You're an O'Neill drama, 



You're Whistler's mama! 



You're camembert. 



You're a rose, 

You're Inferno's Dante, 



You're the nose 

On the great Durante. 

I'm just in a way, 

As the French would say, "de trop". 

But if, baby, I'm the bottom, 

You're the top! 



You're the top! 

You're a dance in Bali. 

You're the top! 

You're a hot tamale. 

You're an angel, you, 

Simply too, too, too diveen, 

You're a Boticcelli, 

You're Keats, 

You're Shelly! 



You're Ovaltine! 

You're a boom, 

You're the dam at Boulder, 

You're the moon, 

Over Mae West's shoulder, 

I'm the nominee of the G.O.P. 



Or GOP! 



But if, baby, I'm the bottom, 

You're the top! 



You're the top! 

You're a Waldorf salad. 

You're the top! 

You're a Berlin ballad. 

You're the boats that glide 

On the sleepy Zuider Zee, 

You're an old Dutch master, 



You're Lady Astor, 

You're broccoli! 

You're romance, 

You're the steppes of Russia, 

You're the pants, on a Roxy usher, 

I'm a broken doll, a fol-de-rol, a blop, 



But if, baby, I'm the bottom, 

You're the top!