Luyện nghe bài hát You're the Top

At words poetic, I'm so
That I always have it best,
Instead of 'em off my chest,
To let 'em unexpressed.
I hate parading my
As I'll probably a bar,
But if this is not so pretty,
At least tell 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,
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 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 after every line
A thrill down my spine.
Now gifted humans like Youmans
Might think your song is bad,
But for a person who's rehearsin'
Well I say this my lad:

You're the top! You're Ghandi.
You're the top! Napolean brandy.
You're the purple light of a summer in Spain,
You're the National Gall'ry, Garbo's sal'ry,
cellophane.
You're sublime, a turkey 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.
the top! You're a Brewster body.
You're the that glide on the sleepy Zuider Zee,
a Nathan 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.
You're the top! You're a dollar.
You're the nimble of the feet of Fred Astaire,
an O'Neill drama, You're Whistler's mama,
Camembert.
You're a rose, Inferno's Dante,
You're the nost of the 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 of a lady and a gent.
You're an old dutch master, Mrs. Aster,
Pepsodent.
You're romance, the steppes of Russia,
You're the pants on a 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.
You're the top! a hot tamale.
You're an angel, you too, too, too diveen,
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, next year's taxes,'
stratosphere.
You're my thoist, a Drumstick Lipstick,
You're da in da Irish svipstick,
I'm a frightened that can find no log to hop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top!