You're the Top

Cole PorterBuy this song

Cole Porter

Cole Albert Porter (June 9, 1891 – October 15, 1964) was an American composer and songwriter. Born to a wealthy family in Indiana, he defied the wishes of his domineering grandfather and took up music as a profession. Classically trained, he was drawn towards musical theatre. After a slow start, … more »

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!

Written by: COLE PORTER

Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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"You're the Top Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2016. Web. 3 Dec. 2016. <http://www.lyrics.com/lyric/1735639>.

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You're the Top