At words poetic, I'm so pathetic that I always have found it best
Instead of getting it off my chest To let him 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 band of bonnets, a Shakespeare sonnet
You're Mickey Mouse, you're the Nile You're the Tower of Pisa, you're the smile
I'm the Mona Lisa, I'm a worthless check, a total wreck of glam
Honey baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top
You're the top, you're Mahatma Gandhi You're the top, you are Nicolean 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 are sublime, you're Turkey dinner You're the time, the time of the derby winner
I'm a toy balloon that is fated soon to pop
Honey baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top
Steve, there's something I gotta tell you.
What is it, Judy?
Well, um, you're the top.
I am?
You're a Waldorf salad.
Oh, no, no, let me say it.
You're the top.
Me too?
That's right.
You're a Berlin baller.
Oh, that's nice.
You're the nimble tread of the feet of Fred Astaire
Actually, I don't dance very well.
You are an oatmeal drama
You're Whistler's mother
Mama!
Sorry.
You're Camembert
Camembert, go on, let's see.
You're a rose
You're sweet
You're Inferno's Dante
That's a very intellectual reference.
You're the nose
Watch it.
I mean, well, I'm the great Durante
That's better.
I'm a lazy lout who is just about to starve
Let's not starve.
But baby, I'm the bottom
She's the one for me
And I've got her
Cause baby, I'm the bottom
You're the top.