Cole Porter You`re The Top Lyrics

You`re The Top Lyrics

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!