Luyện nghe bài hát You're the Top

At poetic, I'm so pathetic
That I always have it best,
Instead of '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 least it'll you how great you are.

You're the top! the Colosseum,
the top! You're the Louvre Museum,
You're a melody from a 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 worthless check, a 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 after every line
A thrill down my spine.
Now humans like Vincent Youmans
Might think that song is bad,
But for a who's just rehearsin'
Well I say this my lad:

You're the top! Mahatma Ghandi.
You're the top! You're 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 of the Derby 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.
the top! You're a Brewster body.
You're the boats that on the sleepy Zuider 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.
the top! You're a Coolidge dollar.
You're the nimble tread of the feet of Astaire,
an O'Neill drama, You're Whistler's mama,
Camembert.
You're a rose, You're Dante,
You're the of the great Durante.
I'm just in the way, as the would say
"De trop,"
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top.

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

You're the top! You're a in Bali.
the top! You're a hot tamale.
You're an angel, you too, too, too divine,
You're a Botticelli, 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 Rhine, You're a sturdy stein of beer,
You're a dress from Saks's, You're next taxes,'
stratosphere.
You're my thoist, a Drumstick Lipstick,
You're the in the Irish svipstick,
I'm a frightened frog that can no log to hop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top!