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 hate my serenading
As I'll probably a bar,
But if ditty 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 from a symphony by Strauss,
a Bendel bonnet, a Shakespeart sonnet,
You're Mouse.
You're the Nile, You're the of Pisa,
the smile 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 divine my spine.
Now gifted humans like Vincent
Might think that your is bad,
But for a who's just rehearsin'
Well I gotta say this my

You're the top! You're Ghandi.
You're the top! You're 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.
the time 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 glide on the 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! an Arrow collar.
You're the top! You're a dollar.
You're the nimble tread of the of Fred Astaire,
an O'Neill drama, You're Whistler's mama,
Camembert.
You're a rose, Inferno's 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.
the top! You're 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, You're the of Russia,
the pants 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 diveen,
a Botticelli, You're 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! You're the of Babel.
the top! You're the Whitney Stable.
By the River Rhine, a sturdy stein of beer,
You're a from Saks's, You're next year's taxes,'
stratosphere.
You're my thoist, You're a Lipstick,
You're da foist in da svipstick,
I'm a frightened frog that can no log to hop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top!