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 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 the 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 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. Astor, 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!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
