You're The Top (with Vince Giordano & The Nighthawks)

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

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

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 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 the 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, who's just about to stop

But if, baby, I'm the bottom

You're the top