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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 |
printable copy of the lyrics to You're The Top! |
| 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. |
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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! |
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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; |
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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! |
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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, |
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You're Whistler's mama! |
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You're camembert. |
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You're a rose, You're Inferno's Dante, |
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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! |
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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! |
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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. |
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Or GOP! |
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But if, baby, I'm the bottom, You're the top! |
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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, |
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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, |
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But if, baby, I'm the bottom, You're the top! |
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