You’re the Top Songtext
von Sutton Foster & Colin Donnell

You think some teabag can compete with you?
You think he′s got one tiny fraction of your brains?
Your looks?
Your-

At words poetic, I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best
Instead of getting ′em 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 ya how great you are


You′re the top
You're the Coliseum
You′re the top
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!

Your words poetic are not pathetic
On the other hand, babe, you shine
And I can feel after every line
A thrill divine, down my spine

Now gifted humans like Vincent Youmans
Might think that your song is bad
But I got a notion, I'll second the motion
And this is what I′m going to add


You're the top
You′re Mahatma Gandhi
You're the top
You're 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′re sublime
You're a turkey dinner
You′re the time
Of the Derby winner
I'm a toy balloon
That's fated soon to pop!
But if, baby, I′m the bottom, you′re the top!

You're the top
You′re an arrow collar
You're the top
You′re a Coolidge dollar
You're the nimble tread of the feet of Fred Astaire
You′re a O'Neill drama
You're Whistler′s mama
You′re Camembert

You're a rose
You′re Inferno's Dante
You′re the nose
On the great Durante
I'm just in the way
As the French would say, "de trop"
But if, baby, I′m the bottom you're the top!

You're the top
You′re a dance in Bali
You′re the top
You're a hot tamale
You′re an angel, you're simply too-too-too divine
You′re a Botticelli
You're Keats
You′re Shelley
You're Ovaltine!

You're a boon
You′re the dam at Boulder
You′re the moon over Mae West's shoulder
I′m the nominee of the G.O.P.
Or GOP!
But if, baby, I'm the bottom
But if, baby, I′m the bottom
But if, baby, I'm the bottom
You′re the top!

You're the top
You're my Swanee River
You′re the top
You′re a goose's liver
You′re the baby grand of a lady and a gent
You're a dress from Saks′
You're next year′s taxes
You're Pepsodent!

You're a prize
You′re a night at Coney
You′re the eyes
Of Irene Bordoni
I'm a frightened frog
That can find no log to hop!
But if, baby, I′m the bottom you're the top!

You′re the top
You're a Waldorf salad
You′re the top
You're a Berlin ballad
You're the boats that glide on the sleepy Zuiderzee
You′re an old Dutch master
You′re Lady Astor
You're broccoli!

You′re romance
You're the steppes of Russia
You′re the pants
On a Roxy usher
I'm a broken doll
A folderol
A blop!
But if, baby, I′m the bottom
But if, baby, I'm the bottom
But if, baby, I'm the bottom
You′re the top!