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
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 a 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 Waldorf salad
You're the top
You're a Berlin ballad
You're the faith
Of a lady and a gent
You're an old Dutch master
You're Mrs. Astaire
You're Pepsodent
You're romance
You're the steppes of Russia
You're the pants
On a Roxy usher
I'm a lazy lout
That's just about to stop
But if baby, I'm the bottom
You're the top

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