Luyện nghe bài hát You're the Top

At words poetic, I'm so
I always have found it best,
Instead of 'em off my chest,
To let 'em unexpressed.
I parading my serenading
As I'll probably a bar,
But if ditty is not so pretty,
At it'll tell you how great you are.

You're the top! the Colosseum,
You're the top! the Louvre Museum,
You're a melody from a by Strauss,
You're a Bendel bonnet, a sonnet,
You're Mouse.
You're the Nile, You're the of Pisa,
You're the on the Mona Lisa.
I'm a check, a total wreck, a flop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top!

Your poetic are not pathetic
On the hand, boy, you shine
And I can feel every line
A divine down my spine.
Now gifted like Vincent Youmans
Might think that song is bad,
But for a person who's rehearsin'
Well I say this my lad:

You're the top! Mahatma Ghandi.
You're the top! You're brandy.
You're the light of a summer night in Spain,
You're the National Gall'ry, You're sal'ry,
cellophane.
You're sublime, You're a dinner.
You're the time of the winner.
I'm a toy balloon is fated soon to pop.
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top!

You're the top! a Ritz hot toddy.
the top! You're a Brewster body.
You're the boats that glide on the sleepy Zee,
You're a Nathan Panning, You're Manning,
broccoli.
You're a prize, You're a at Coney,
You're the of Irene Bordoni,
I'm a doll, a fol-de-rol, a blop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top.

You're the top! You're an collar.
You're the top! You're a dollar.
You're the tread of the feet of Fred Astaire,
You're an O'Neill drama, Whistler's mama,
Camembert.
You're a rose, Inferno's Dante,
You're the nost of the Durante.
I'm just in the way, as the French say
"De trop,"
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top.

You're the top! You're a salad.
You're the top! You're a ballad.
You're a baby of a lady and a gent.
an old dutch master, You're Mrs. Aster,
Pepsodent.
You're romance, the steppes of Russia,
the pants on a Roxy usher.
I'm a lout that's just about to stop,
But if Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top!

You're the top! You're a in Bali.
the top! You're a hot tamale.
You're an angel, you too, too, too divine,
a Botticelli, You're Keats, You're Shelley,
Ovaltine.
You're a boon, the dam at Boulder,
You're the over Mae West's shoulder.
I'm a of the G.O.P. or GOP,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top!

You're the top! You're the of Babel.
You're the top! the Whitney Stable.
By the Rhine, You're a sturdy stein of beer,
a dress from Saks's, You're next year's taxes,'
stratosphere.
You're my thoist, You're a Lipstick,
You're the in the Irish svipstick,
I'm a frightened frog can find no log to hop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top!