At words poetic I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best,
Instead of getting it off my chest,
To let 'em rest unexpressed.
I hate parading my serenading
As I'll probably miss a bar,
But if this ditty is not so pretty
At least it'll tell you how great you are.
You're the top,
You're the Coliseum.
You're the top,
Mmm you're the Louvre museum.
You're a melody from a
Symphony by Strauss.
You're a Bendel bonnet,
A Shakespeare sonnet,
You're Mickey Mouse.
You're the Nile,
You're the tower of Pisa.
You're the smile
On the Mona Lisa.
I'm a worthless check,
A total wreck—a flop.
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top.
You're the top!
You're Mahatma Ghandi.
You're the top,
You are Napoleon Brandy.
You're the purple light of a
Summer night in Spain.
You're the National Gallery,
You're Garbo's salary,
You're cellophane.
You are sublime,
You're a turkey dinner.
You're the time,
The time of the Derby winner.
I'm a toy balloon that is
Fated soon to pop.
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top...
Top.
Steve, there's something I got to tell ya...
Ryan: What is it Judy?
Well, umm...
You're the top
Ryan: I am?
Mmm... You're a Waldorf salad.
Ryan: Oh no, no let me say it.
You're the top—
Barbra: Me too?
Ryan: That's right.
You're a Berlin ballad.
Barbra: Oh, that's nice.
You're the nimble tread
Of the feet of Fred Astaire.
Ryan: Actually, I don't dance very well.
You are an O'Neill drama.
You're Whistler's Mother.
Mama!
Ryan: Sorry.
You're Camembert.
Ryan: Camembert, well, let's see...
You're a rose.
Barbra: Mmm... that is sweet.
You're Inferno's Dante.
Ryan: That's a very intellectual reference!
You're the nose.
Barbra: Watch it!
Ryan: I mean... well...
Barbra: What what whawhawhat—
—On the great Durante.
Barbra: Ah, That's better.
I'm the lazy lout
Who is just
About to storm.
Ryan: Let's not storm.
But if baby I'm the bottom—
She's the one for me.
And I've got 'im.
'Cause if, baby, I'm the bottom—
You're the top.
