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Anything Goes Anything Goes You're The Top (1998 London Cast Recording) HER: 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 seranading 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 Colosseum. You're the top! You're the Louvre Museum. You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss, You're a Bendel bonnet, A Shakrespeare 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! HIM: Your words poetic are not pathetic. On the other hand, babe, you shine. And I can feel after every line A thrill devine Up 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 Napolean 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! HER: You're the top! You're an arrow collar. You're the top! You're a Coolidge dollar. You're the nimble thread of the feet of Fred Astaire, You an O'Neill drama HIM: You're Whistler's mother HER: You're Camembert. HIM: You're a rose You're Inferno's Dante HER: You're the note 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! HIM: 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 diveen. You're a Botticelli, You're Keats, HER: You're Shelley. HIM: 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. HER: or GOP! HIM: But if, baby, I'm the bottom, You're the top! HER: 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, HIM: You're Lady Astor! HER: 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, BOTH: But if baby, I'm the bottom You're the top! |
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