At words poetic, I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best,
Instead of getting them off my chest,
To let them rest unexpressed.
I hate parading my serenading
As I'll probably miss the 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 Louvre Museum.
You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss
You're an Ascot bonnet,
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,
Baby, I'm the bottom,
Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!