You're The Top - Ethel Merman
Written by：Edward Caswall/John (gb 1) Goss
At words poetic I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best
Instead of getting them off my chest
To let'em rest unexpressed
I hate parading my serenading
For 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 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 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
That's just about to stop
But if Baby I'm the bottom
You're the top