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 parading my serenading
As I'll probably a bar,
But if this is not so pretty,
At it'll tell you how great you are.

You're the top! the Colosseum,
the top! You're the Louvre Museum,
You're a from a symphony by Strauss,
You're a bonnet, a Shakespeart sonnet,
You're Mouse.
the Nile, You're the Tow'r of Pisa,
You're the on the Mona Lisa.
I'm a worthless check, a 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 thrill down my spine.
Now gifted humans like Youmans
think that your song is bad,
But for a person just rehearsin'
Well I say this my lad:

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

You're the top! You're a hot toddy.
the top! You're a Brewster body.
You're the that glide on the sleepy Zuider Zee,
You're a Panning, You're Bishop 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.
the top! You're a Coolidge dollar.
You're the nimble tread of the of Fred Astaire,
You're an drama, You're Whistler's mama,
Camembert.
You're a rose, You're Dante,
the nost of the great 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! a Berlin ballad.
You're a baby grand of a and a gent.
You're an old master, You're Mrs. Aster,
Pepsodent.
You're romance, the steppes 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! a dance 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 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! You're the 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 that can find no log to hop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top!