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 turkey dinner
You're the time, the time of a Derby winner

I'm a toy balloon
That is 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 an 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 a 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
Simply too, too, too driven
You're a Boticcelli
You're Keats,
You're Shelly

You're Ovaltine

You're a boom
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
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 Zuider Zee
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 fol-de-rol, a blop

But if, baby, I'm the bottom
You're the top