Cole Porter 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 the 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 Louvre 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 cheque, a total wreck, a flop,
But if, baby, I'm the bottom you're the top!
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, of a Derby winner
I'm a toy balloon thats 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 prose,
You're Inferno's Dante,
You're the nose
On the great Durante.
I'm just in the 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 Waldorf salad.
You're the top!
You're a Berlin ballad.
your the face brand of a Lady and a Gent!
You're an old dutch master,
You're Miss Astor,
your pepsoden!
You're romance,
You're the steppes of russia,
You're the pants, on a roxy usher,
im a lazy lout, whos just about to stop!
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
