You're the top (Billy, Reno)-John McGlinn

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 As I probably miss the 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 the turkey dinner You're the time of the 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 [Incomprehensible], 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 the Waldorf salad You're the top, you're a Berlin ballad You're the basic grand of a lady and the gents You're an old Dutch master, you're Mrs. Astor You're Pepsodent You're romance, you're the steps of Russia You're the pants on a Roxy usher I'm a lazy lout with just about to stop But if baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top