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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 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 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 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 the 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, who's just about to stop But if, baby, I'm the bottom You're the top
More songs from Cole Porter
Yale Bulldog Chant
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Song Info
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Vocals
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