Musicians - You're the Top

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	Musicians - You're the Top

You're the Top is a Cole Porter song from the 1934 musical Anything Goes. It is about a man and a woman who take turns complimenting each other.

Lyrics

Reno: At words poetic, I'm so pathetic That I always have found it best, Instead of getting 'em off my chest, To let 'em 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 Bendel bonnet, A Shakespeare 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!

Billie: Your words poetic are not pathetic. On the other hand, babe, you shine, And I can feel after every line A thrill divine Down my spine. Now gifted humans like Vincent Youmans Might think that your song is bad, But I got a notion I'll second the motion And this is what I'm going to add;

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 a turkey dinner; You're the time Of a 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 a rose. 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 a dance in Bali. You're the top: You're a hot tamale. You're an angel, you, Simply too, too, too divine. You're a Botticelli, You're Keats, you're Shelley, You're Ovaltine!

You're a boom; You're the dam at Boulder; You're the moon Over Mae West's shoulder; I'm the nominee of the G.O.P Or GOP; 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 boats that glide On the sleepy Zuider Zee. You're an old Dutch master, You're Lady Astor, You're broccoli!

You're romance: You're the steppes of Russia; You're the pants On a Roxy usher. I'm a broken doll, a fol-de-rol, a blop, But if, baby, I'm the bottom, You're the top!

The song's upbeat melody makes it a perennial favorite even though some of the references have become dated.

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