Luyện nghe bài hát You're the Top

At poetic, I'm so pathetic
That I always found it best,
of getting 'em off my chest,
To let 'em unexpressed.
I hate my serenading
As probably miss a bar,
But if ditty 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 Bendel bonnet, a 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 poetic are not
On the other hand, boy, you
And I can feel after every
A thrill down my spine.
Now gifted humans Vincent Youmans
Might think your song is bad,
But for a person who's just
Well I gotta say my lad:

You're the top! Mahatma Ghandi.
You're the top! Napolean brandy.
the purple light of a summer night in Spain,
You're the National Gall'ry, Garbo's sal'ry,
cellophane.
You're sublime, You're a 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.
You're the top! You're a body.
You're the boats that glide on the sleepy Zee,
a Nathan Panning, You're Bishop 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.
the top! You're a Coolidge dollar.
You're the nimble tread of the of Fred Astaire,
You're an O'Neill drama, 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! You're a ballad.
You're a grand of a lady and a gent.
You're an old master, You're Mrs. Aster,
Pepsodent.
You're romance, You're the of Russia,
You're the 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.
You're the top! a hot tamale.
You're an angel, you too, too, too diveen,
You're a Botticelli, You're Keats, 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.
You're the top! the Whitney Stable.
By the River Rhine, You're a stein of beer,
You're a dress from Saks's, 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!