You’re the cream of the crop,
when you fill my cup;
you don’t leave a drop,
I could be down so low, but you pick me right up.
I’ve got the milk, you’ve got the sugar to make it sweet,
we’ll both drink and eat.
We can feast and be merry to our heart’s content,
Indulge in delights until we are both spent.
Only the finest goes in the pitcher,
and you’re the cream of the crop.
Not too sour, not too bitter,
taste so good, don’t want to stop.
I feel such elation,
as if I were high on a mountaintop.
There’s no words for such a sensation,
once you’ve had the cream of the crop.
Can’t settle for less than the best,
I wouldn’t want to trade or swap,
to this, I can attest,
From the bottom to the top,
and all parts between,
the cream of the crop,
feels too good, it’s obscene.