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 Colosseum
You're the top! You're the Louvre Museum
You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss

You're a Bendel bonnet a Shakespeart sonnet
You're Mickey Mouse.
You're the Nile You're the Tow'r 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 boy 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 for a person who's just rehearsin'

Well I gotta say this my lad:

You're the top! You're Mahatma Ghandi.

You're the top! You're Napolean brandy.
You're the purple light of a summer night in Spain
You're the National Gall'ry You're Garbo's sal'ry

You're cellophane.
You're sublime You're a turkey dinner.
You're the time of the Derby winner.

I'm a toy balloon that is fated soon to pop.
But if Baby I'm the bottom
You're the top!


You're the top! You're a Ritz hot toddy.
You're the top! You're a Brewster body.

You're the boats that glide on the sleepy Zuider Zee
You're a Nathan Panning You're Bishop Manning
You're broccoli.

You're a prize You're a night at Coney
You're the eyes of Irene Bordoni
I'm a broken doll a fol-de-rol a blop

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 nost of 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.
You're a baby grand of a lady and a gent.

You're an old dutch master You're Mrs. Aster
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!

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 divine
You're a Botticelli You're Keats You're Shelley
You're Ovaltine.
You're a boon You're the dam at Boulder

You're the moon over Mae West's shoulder.
I'm a 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 the Tower of Babel.
You're the top! You're the Whitney Stable.
By the River Rhine You're a sturdy stein of beer
You're a dress from Saks's You're next year's taxes'
You're stratosphere.

You're my thoist You're a Drumstick Lipstick
You're the foist in the Irish svipstick
I'm a frightened frog that can find no log to hop
But if Baby I'm the bottom
You're the top!