You're The Top
Anita O’Day Lyrics

At words poetic, I'm so pathetic
I'm not great at expressing myself poetically

That I always have found it best, Instead of getting 'em off my chest, To let 'em rest unexpressed.
So, I usually don't express my feelings through poetry instead, I let them sit inside me.

I hate parading my serenading As I'll probably miss a bar, But if this ditty is not so pretty,
I don't like showing off my singing skills as I may make mistakes, but even then, if my song isn't very polished,

At least it'll tell you how great you are.
It'll still help me express how much I admire you.

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!
You're everything amazing and high-class in this world like the Colosseum, Louvre Museum, and even Mickey Mouse. You're even classical music like Strauss's symphony, aristocratic hats and even Shakespeares sonnets. Whereas, I'm nothing but a failure, a financial flop, but even then, if I'm the lowest, you're still the greatest!

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:
Your poetry is amazing; it's the opposite of pathetic. And with every line you utter, I can feel chills up my spine, which are nothing but divine. Even though someone talented like Vincent Youmans may not like your song, as for someone like me, who's just practicing, I gotta say that you are the greatest!

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 are the most significant person, like Mahatma Gandhi, and the best beverage like Napoleon brandy. Even the shades of purple on a summer night in Spain, the National Gallery and even Garbo's salary are not as impressive as you are. You are the definition of excellence, and even turkey dinner tastes as good as you are. You're the moment the Derby winner crosses the finish line. Whereas, I'm nothing but a toy balloon soon to pop. But even then, if I'm the lowest, you're the most significant!

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 are the most amazing things in this world, from a luxurious Ritz hot toddy to elite Brewster body. You are like the boats that glide over sleepy waters of the Zuider Zee, or even like Nathan Panning or Bishop Manning, and even broccoli. You are a valuable prize, like a night at Coney, or the eyes of Irene Bordoni. Whereas, I'm nothing but broken doll or a flop, still if I'm the bottom, you're the highest!

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 are the best and the most amazing things in the world, like an Arrow collar, and like a Coolidge dollar. You are even Fred Astaire's precise footsteps, Barrow O'Neill's drama, Whistler's mama, and even Camembert cheese. You are charming like a rose, and even Dante in his Inferno's poem, also the nost of the great Durante. Whereas, I'm nothing but in the way or unwanted, and as the French say, "De trop," but even then, if I'm the lowest, you're still the highest!

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 are the epitome of good taste, like the Waldorf salad, and a beautiful Berlin Ballad. You are like a magnificent baby grand piano played by a gentlelady. You are like the old Dutch masters or even Mrs. Aster, or even like the toothpaste Pepsodent. You are like romance and even the beautiful steppes of Russia or the pants a male Roxy theatre usher. Whereas, I'm lazy and unmotivated, but even then, if I'm the lowest of the low, you're the best of the best!

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 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 exotic and fascinating, like a beautiful dance in Bali or a spicy hot tamale. You are also like an angel - too beautiful and divine to describe properly - and also similar to Botticelli, Keats, and Shelley, and even like a chocolate drink called Ovaltine. You are a blessing, like the Hoover Dam in Boulder, and even the shining moon over Mae West's shoulder. As for me, I'm just one of the nominees in the GOP, but if I'm the lowest, you're the highest.

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 da foist in da 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!
You are like the legendary Tower of Babel, and like the famous Whitney Stable. By the beautiful River Rhine, you are like a strong beer served in a mug. You are like a beautiful dress from the famous Saks Fifth Avenue, and even next year's taxes or the stratosphere. You are like a soothing voice, like Drumstick Lipstick, and even like someone who's a native of Ireland. Whereas, I'm like a terrified frog who's searching for a log, but even if I'm low, you're the highest of the high!