You're the Top
Cole Porter Lyrics
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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 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!
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:
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'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'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'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'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 divine,
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 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 the foist in the 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!
In Cole Porter's song You're the Top, the singer starts by admitting that he is not so good with words and expressing emotions. He finds it hard to articulate his feelings and prefers keeping them to himself instead of sharing them with others. However, he still manages to convey his message to the listener by delivering a song that tells them how great they are. The lyrics then proceed to list numerous analogies and comparisons that the singer thinks represents the listener's greatness. These analogies include famous landmarks like the Colosseum and the Tower of Pisa, renowned personalities like Mahatma Gandhi and Napoleon, and even everyday items like Mickey Mouse and broccoli.
The second part of the song is sung by a female counterpart who admires the singer's poetic prowess even though he feels he is not particularly good at it. She expresses her admiration for his words by telling him that each line he delivers sends shivers down her spine. The rest of the lyrics follow the same pattern as the first part, listing analogies that represent the singer's greatness, such as the nimble feet of Fred Astaire and the pants of a Roxy usher.
Overall, You're the Top is a lyrical dissection of the singer's praise for the listener by expressing how exceptional they are.
Line by Line Meaning
At words poetic, I'm so pathetic
I'm not that great at expressing myself poetically
That I always have found it best, Instead of getting 'em off my chest, To let 'em rest unexpressed.
Rather than express how I'm feeling through poetry, I tend to keep it to myself
I hate parading my serenading, As I'll probably miss a bar
I don't like showing off my singing abilities as I might mess up
But if this ditty is not so pretty, At least it'll tell you how great you are.
Even though my song might not be great, it's still a tribute to how amazing you are
You're the top! You're the Colosseum, You're the top! You're the Louvre Museum
You're the greatest of the great, like the Colosseum in Rome and the Louvre Museum in Paris
You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss, You're a Bendel bonnet, a Shakespeare sonnet, You're Mickey Mouse.
You're a beautiful musical creation, an elegant hat from Bendel, a revered Shakespearean sonnet, a beloved icon like Mickey Mouse
You're the Nile, You're the Tow'r of Pisa, You're the smile on the Mona Lisa.
You're all the great wonders of the world, like the Nile river and the Tower of Pisa, and even the mysterious smile of the Mona Lisa
You're sublime, You're a turkey dinner. You're the time of the Derby winner.
You're so wonderful, even better than a delicious turkey dinner or the moment of victory at the Kentucky Derby
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 the graceful dancing of Fred Astaire, the compelling drama of Eugene O'Neill, the honored Whistler's mother painting, and even the delicious cheese, Camembert
You're a rose, You're Inferno's Dante, You're the most of the great Durante.
You're the symbol of love, beauty, and passion like a rose, the master poet Dante in The Inferno and the great comedian Jimmy Durante
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 a sophisticated and refined musical instrument like the baby grand, an esteemed painter like the Dutch masters, a socialite like Mrs. Aster and even a trusted toothpaste like Pepsodent
You're romance, You're the steppes of Russia, You're the pants on a Roxy usher.
You embody what the essence of romance is, the epic steppes of Russia, and even the simple image of the pants worn by an usher in the iconic Roxy theater
You're an angel, you simply too, too, too divine, You're a Botticelli, You're Keats, You're Shelley, You're Ovaltine.
You're a heavenly creature, you are divine, like the paintings of Botticelli and the poets Keats and Shelley and even the nostalgic Ovaltine drink
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 a reliable and ever-lasting stein of beer, a luxurious dress from Saks, even the upcoming taxes, and you even surpass the limits into the stratosphere
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Written by: Cole Porter
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
@electrowavez1680
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
@grilledoatmeal3070
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 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!
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:
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'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'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'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'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 divine,
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 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 the foist in the 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!
@alclinc1
I wanted to help Cole out so I wrote some additional lyrics for him.
You’re the top!
You’re an Oscar winner.
You’re the top!
You’re a lobster dinner.
You’re a Redwood tree, a prodigy, a hit.
You’re a diamond ring, a song by Bing,
A favorite.
You’re a star,
You’re a cowboy ropin’.
You’re under par
At the US Open.
I’m a dirty slob, a worthless blob, a mop.
But if, baby, I’m the bottom you’re the top!
@rickancil5222
I've heard hundreds of renditions of this song over the years. I still think that this is the best of them all.
@GaudiumEssendi
Yes, you could even say it's the top.
@notseanlopez
Cap the Bobby darin will always be on top
@IarwainBenAdar
I think Michael Knowles' version is the best
@Anupam19781
I love this stuff. Joyful, playful and oh so witty. Cole will never be out of fashion.
@electrowavez1680
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
@helensilver1381
Thanks a bushel and a peck! You're the top~
@Wiener-Fag
Its most impressive how he can sing without moving his mouth and play the piano while looking at the camera
@peepeepoopooguy6969
Its in reverse
@Dr170
Someone really needs to colorize this priceless footage