Beegie Adair - You're the top lyrics

BEEGIE ADAIR 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 Colosseum You're the top! You're the Louvre Museum You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss You're a Bendel bonnet, a Shakespeart sonnet You're Mickey Mouse You're the Nile, You're the Tow'r 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, boy, 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 for a person who's just rehearsin' Well I gotta say this my lad: You're the top! You're Mahatma Ghandi You're the top! You're Napolean brandy You're the purple light of a summer night in Spain You're the National Gall'ry, You're Garbo's sal'ry 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 is fated soon to pop But if, Baby, I'm the bottom You're the top! You're the top! You're a Ritz hot toddy You're the top! You're a Brewster body You're the boats that glide on the sleepy Zuider Zee You're a Nathan Panning, You're Bishop Manning You're broccoli You're a prize, You're a night at Coney You're the eyes of Irene Bordoni I'm a broken doll, a fol-de-rol, a blop 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 nost of 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 a 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 that's just about to stop 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 divine You're a Botticelli, You're Keats, You're Shelley You're Ovaltine You're a boon, You're the dam at Boulder You're the moon over Mae West's shoulder I'm a 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 the Tower of Babel You're the top! You're the Whitney Stable By the River Rhine, You're a sturdy stein of beer You're a dress from Saks's, You're next year's taxes,' You're stratosphere You're my thoist, You're a Drumstick Lipstick You're the foist in the Irish svipstick I'm a frightened frog that can find no log to hop But if, Baby, I'm the bottom You're the top!