Luyện nghe bài hát You're the Top

At words poetic, I'm so
I always have found it best,
Instead of 'em off my chest,
To let 'em unexpressed.
I hate my serenading
As I'll miss a bar,
But if this is not so pretty,
At least it'll tell you how 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 smile on the Lisa.
I'm a check, a total wreck, a flop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top!

Your words are not pathetic
On the hand, boy, you shine
And I can feel after every
A thrill divine my spine.
Now gifted humans like Vincent
Might think that song is bad,
But for a person just rehearsin'
I gotta say this my lad:

You're the top! You're Ghandi.
the top! You're Napolean brandy.
You're the purple of a summer night in Spain,
You're the National Gall'ry, You're sal'ry,
cellophane.
You're sublime, a turkey dinner.
You're the time of the winner.
I'm a toy balloon that is 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.
the boats that glide on the sleepy Zuider Zee,
You're a Nathan Panning, You're Manning,
broccoli.
You're a prize, You're a at Coney,
You're the eyes of 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.
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,
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! a Waldorf 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, You're the 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.
You're the top! a hot tamale.
an angel, you simply too, too, too divine,
You're a Botticelli, Keats, You're 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.
You're the top! the Whitney Stable.
By the Rhine, You're a sturdy stein of beer,
You're a dress from Saks's, next year's taxes,'
stratosphere.
You're my thoist, a Drumstick 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!