Luyện nghe bài hát You're the Top

At words poetic, I'm so
That I always found it best,
Instead of 'em off my chest,
To let 'em unexpressed.
I hate my serenading
As probably miss a bar,
But if this is not so pretty,
At it'll tell you how great you are.

You're the top! the Colosseum,
You're the top! You're the Museum,
You're a melody from a by Strauss,
You're a bonnet, a Shakespeart sonnet,
You're Mouse.
You're the Nile, the Tow'r of Pisa,
You're the smile on the 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 every line
A divine down my spine.
Now humans like Vincent Youmans
think that your song is bad,
But for a person just rehearsin'
Well I gotta say my lad:

You're the top! Mahatma Ghandi.
the top! You're Napolean brandy.
You're the purple light of a night in Spain,
You're the Gall'ry, You're Garbo's sal'ry,
cellophane.
You're sublime, You're a dinner.
the time of the Derby winner.
I'm a toy that is fated soon 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 Nathan Panning, You're Manning,
broccoli.
You're a prize, a night at Coney,
the eyes 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.
You're the top! You're a dollar.
the nimble tread of the feet of Fred Astaire,
You're an 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 would say
"De trop,"
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
the top.

You're the top! a Waldorf salad.
the top! You're a Berlin ballad.
You're a baby grand of a and a gent.
an old dutch master, You're Mrs. Aster,
Pepsodent.
You're romance, the steppes 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,
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! the Tower of Babel.
You're the top! the Whitney Stable.
By the River Rhine, You're a sturdy of beer,
a dress from Saks's, You're 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!