You're The Top-Cole Porter

歌手 : Cole Porter

语种 : 英语

时长 : 03:20

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TXT You're The Top-Cole Porter 文本歌词

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 thats fated soon to pop

But if, baby, I'm the bottom,

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 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 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!