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
And 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 LeRoy
You’re the Coliseum.
You’re the top!
Oh baby
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 LeRoy!
You’re Mahatma Gandhi Hiram.
Mmm 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, Mmm of a Derby winner
I’m a toy balloon that’s fated soon to pop
But if, baby, I’m the bottom,
But if, baby, I’m the bottom,
But if, baby, I’m the bottom,
You’re the top!
You’re the top!
You’re an arrow collar
LeRoy 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,
But if, baby, I’m the bottom,
But if baby, I’m the bottom,
You’re the top!
You’re a Waldorf salad.
You’re just 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,
Baby 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,
But if, baby, I’m the bottom,
But if, baby, I’m the bottom,
You’re the top!
