Luyện nghe bài hát You're the Top

At poetic, I'm so pathetic
That I have found it best,
of getting 'em off my chest,
To let 'em unexpressed.
I hate parading my
As probably miss 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! You're the Museum,
You're a from a symphony by Strauss,
a Bendel bonnet, a Shakespeart 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 words poetic are not
On the hand, boy, you shine
And I can feel after every
A divine down my spine.
Now gifted like Vincent Youmans
think that your song is bad,
But for a who's just rehearsin'
Well I gotta say my lad:

the top! You're Mahatma Ghandi.
You're the top! You're brandy.
the purple light of a summer night in Spain,
You're the National Gall'ry, Garbo's 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! a Brewster body.
You're the boats that glide on the sleepy Zee,
You're a Panning, You're Bishop Manning,
broccoli.
You're a prize, a night 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.
the nimble tread of the feet of Fred 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! You're a salad.
the top! You're a Berlin ballad.
You're a baby of a lady and a gent.
an old dutch master, You're Mrs. Aster,
Pepsodent.
You're romance, You're the of Russia,
You're the pants on a usher.
I'm a lazy lout that's just 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, You're Keats, 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! the Tower of Babel.
the top! You're the Whitney Stable.
By the River Rhine, You're a sturdy of beer,
a dress from Saks's, You're next year's taxes,'
stratosphere.
You're my thoist, a Drumstick Lipstick,
You're the in the Irish svipstick,
I'm a frightened that can find no log to hop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top!