At words poetic, I'm so pathetic that I always have found it bestInstead of getting it off my chest To let him rest, unexpressedI hate parading my serenading as I'll probably miss a barBut if this ditty is not so pretty At least it'll tell you how great you areYou're the top, you're the Colosseum You're the top, you're the Louvre MuseumYou're a melody from a symphony by Strauss You're a band of bonnets, a Shakespeare sonnetYou're Mickey Mouse, you're the Nile You're the Tower of Pisa, you're the smileI'm the Mona Lisa, I'm a worthless check, a total wreck of glamHoney baby, I'm the bottom, you're the topYou're the top, you're Mahatma Gandhi You're the top, you are Nicolean brandyYou're the purple light of a summer night in SpainYou're the National Gallery, you're Garbo's salary, you're cellophaneYou are sublime, you're Turkey dinner You're the time, the time of the derby winnerI'm a toy balloon that is fated soon to popHoney baby, I'm the bottom, you're the topSteve, there's something I gotta tell you.What is it, Judy?Well, um, you're the top.I am?You're a Waldorf salad.Oh, no, no, let me say it.You're the top.Me too?That's right.You're a Berlin baller.Oh, that's nice.You're the nimble tread of the feet of Fred AstaireActually, I don't dance very well.You are an oatmeal dramaYou're Whistler's motherMama!Sorry.You're CamembertCamembert, go on, let's see.You're a roseYou're sweetYou're Inferno's DanteThat's a very intellectual reference.You're the noseWatch it.I mean, well, I'm the great DuranteThat's better.I'm a lazy lout who is just about to starveLet's not starve.But baby, I'm the bottomShe's the one for meAnd I've got herCause baby, I'm the bottomYou're the top.