Luyện nghe bài hát You're the Top

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

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

Your words are not pathetic
On the other hand, boy, you
And I can feel after every
A thrill down my spine.
Now gifted humans like Youmans
think that your song is bad,
But for a person who's just
I gotta say this my lad:

You're the top! Mahatma Ghandi.
the top! You're Napolean brandy.
You're the purple light of a summer 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.
You're the top! You're a body.
You're the boats that glide on the Zuider 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! an Arrow collar.
You're the top! a Coolidge dollar.
You're the nimble tread of the feet of Astaire,
You're an drama, You're Whistler's mama,
Camembert.
You're a rose, You're Dante,
You're the nost of the Durante.
I'm in the way, as the French would say
"De trop,"
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top.

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

You're the top! You're a in Bali.
You're the top! a hot tamale.
You're an angel, you too, too, too divine,
You're a Botticelli, Keats, You're Shelley,
Ovaltine.
a boon, You're the dam at Boulder,
You're the moon 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 River Rhine, a sturdy stein of beer,
You're a dress from Saks's, You're year's taxes,'
stratosphere.
You're my thoist, You're a Lipstick,
the foist in the Irish svipstick,
I'm a frightened frog that can no log to hop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top!