The 40 best Disney songs of all time, ranked

A flop upon its theatrical release in 1992, cultivated such a large cult following that it made its way to Broadway nearly two decades later. A stirring anthem arriving about halfway through the film, “Seize The Day” is a rallying call for the newspaper peddlers, inspiring them to rise up against the publishers. It’s a song that seems destined for the stage: a big, rousing number that showcases the ensemble.

Playing a brief but pivotal role within , “I’m Late” introduces Alice not only to the White Rabbit but Wonderland itself. The White Rabbit scurries around, singing the nagging melody to “I’m Late,” practically offering Alice an invitation to follow him down a rabbit hole. As quick as the song is, its incessant hook and momentum provide a memorable moment in the film.

The last traditionally animated film released by Disney, relocates the classic fairy tale The Frog Prince to New Orleans, providing one of their regular songwriters the chance to indulge in his love for Crescent City R&B. Randy Newman’s song is a celebration of all the wonders of the Big Easy set to a big, rolling beat accentuated by Dixieland brass and strings. Several variations of the tune can be heard in the film but the one performed by New Orleans legend Dr. John carries a particularly pungent punch.

Originally designed as a comic counterpoint to the budding romance of Simba and Nala, Elton John insisted that the sequence featuring “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” not be sung by the cutup characters Timon and Pumbaa but rather played straight. His insistence on having his collaboration with lyricist Tim Rice follow in the vein of “Someday My Prince Will Come” and “A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes” resulted in a stirring, stately ballad that became something of a modern standard, having legs that stretched far beyond .

was designed as a self-satire of Disney’s fairy tale tropes, a concept that provided songwriter Alan Menken with the unusual opportunity to parody himself. That’s precisely what he does with “That’s How You Know,” a breezy number driven by steel drums that harken back to The Little Mermaid’s “Under The Sea” while also sending up portions of Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs, building up to a busy show-stopper filled with extras. Menken pulls off a nifty trick: he satirizes well-known cliches while illustrating why those very same cliches still have power.

“You Can Fly!” arrives at the moment when Peter Pan teaches Wendy and her brothers that they can indeed take to the skies, so long as they have a dose of fairy dust. While the verses effectively serve as insistent exposition, when the song reaches its stirring chorus, “You Can Fly!” lifts to the heavens, providing a palpable sense of escape.

Winnie The Pooh And The Blustery Day, the second Winnie the Pooh featurette Disney released, served as the onscreen introduction to Tigger, the boisterous stuffed tiger that acted as a foil to the affable bear. The Sherman Brothers gave him an indelible theme with “The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers,” an irrepressible, bouncy celebration of all his virtues. In the original film, the tune doesn’t last long—it’d later be fleshed out in other Disney projects—which is a testament to how powerful its melody is: its buoyancy sears into the subconscious.

Memory plays a central role in Coco, a 2017 film about how families love and honor their dearly departed, so it’s fitting that its theme song is called “Remember Me.” Far from being a sentimental trifle, “Remember Me” changes not just according to its arrangement—it can be heard as a bolero and a ballad in the film—but according to its context. As it shifts from a knowingly coy ploy for affection from a pompous pop star into a moving plea to be kept alive through memory, “Remember Me” gains poignancy—a tricky evolution songwriters Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez pull off with grace.

Robert Sherman devised “A Spoonful Of Sugar’’ when he was searching for a concept for a catchy number for , the P.L. Travers adaptation that was Walt Disney’s pet project. Upon hearing from his son that he had no problem taking a polio vaccine as the medicine was delivered via sugar, he came up the idea for “A Spoonful Of Sugar,” an irrepressible and clever bit of advice delivered by the magical titular nanny. The stirring melody helped bring Julie Andrews aboard the project and provided the film—and the Disney studios—with one of its most enduring songs.

“Under The Sea” is the Oscar-winning anthem but “Kiss The Girl” illustrates how fully revived the fortunes of Disney. Where “Under The Sea” is nearly forceful in its exuberance, “Kiss The Girl” discovers lightness within a similar calypso territory. It helps that it turns the table of affection, placing the emphasis on Prince Eric, instead of Ariel, with the crab Sebastian insisting that the romantic hero should just reveal his heart. It’s an effervescent song, it’s high spirits containing an effortlessness that hadn’t been heard in Disney since Walt was alive.

At the foundation of Disney’s legacy is “Whistle While You Work,” a chipper tune Snow White sings to the woodland creatures that help her tidy up her cottage in . Snow White summoning and speaking to the animals is a trope that Disney would return to often—they’d later satirize it in Enchanted—and the debut of this idea retains its power. Yes, its ornate arrangement and especially Adriana Caselotti’s treacly, precocious voice can seem old-fashioned to modern ears, but “Whistle While You Work” also can seem sweet, almost magical, thanks to its cheerful gait.

Disney flailed for a long time in the 1970s, churning out ridiculous live-action family films while their animation division floundered. was a rare bright spot, blending animation with a coming of age story starring the easy-listening Australian singer Helen Reddy. “Candle On The Water” is firmly within her wheelhouse, an inspirational bit of slick adult contemporary pop that allows her to show off her range with ease. “Candle On The Water” doesn’t sound like a Disney song: it’s very much a soft rock song of the late 1970s and its uniqueness within the Disney catalog is why it’s memorable.

“How Far I’ll Go” acts as the vehicle for the hopes and aspirations of , the daughter of the chief of a Polynesisan tribe who yearns to explore the world. Lin-Manuel Miranda conjures a genuine feeling of desire in his spirited melody, which circles upwards as Moana’s dreams grow larger. That sense of drama distinguishes “How Far I’ll Go” from other inspirational tunes in the Disney canon: not only does it capture a real sense, it suggests that Moana will see her fantasies come true.

An unexpected number one smash early in 2022, “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” weaves different voices and musical styles in a fashion that has few parallels in the Disney canon. With its busy, buzzy blend of Broadway, hip-hop and pop, it’s clearly the work of Lin-Manuel Miranda but here he’s not resting on his laurels. With its shifting viewpoints and gossipy undertones, “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” reveals much about ’s characters and its titular subject while also providing a hook that instantly lodges into the memory, never to leave again.

Anchored in the swinging jive of the big band era, “Friend Like Me” plays fast and loose with the genre. It bops to a jumping beat and has plenty of blaring horns but ultimately it’s a showcase for Robin Williams’ Genie, allowing the comedian to cycle through a number of impressions and caricatures in a dizzying, infectious fashion.

Like “Candle In The Wind” before it, “You’ll Be In My Heart” is effectively a state of the art adult contemporary tune grafted upon a Disney film. Here, it’s Phil Collins fresh out of Genesis and playing in his solo comfort zone: love songs that are simultaneously sweet and anthemic. While the song doesn’t quite convey the world of Tarzan, it nevertheless gave Disney’s 1999 adaptation of the Edgar Rice Burroughs character a lift: it became a hit, winning the Oscar for Best Song in the process.

Effectively splicing “Whistle While You Work” with “When You Wish Upon A Star,” “A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes” finds Cinderella singing to birds and mice, instructing them on the power and magic of dreams. It’s starry-eyed enough to double as a romantic theme for Disney’s 1950 adaptation of , a sentimental streak that separates it from its predecessors: where “When You Wish Upon A Star” covers all manners of hopes, Cinderella’s dreams seem to be targeted toward a prince she hopes will arrive, making it the quintessential Disney princess song.

“Circle Of Life” serves as the introduction to , painting a portrait of the busy, vibrant jungle as effectively as the animation it accompanies. Unlike “Can You Feel The Love Tonight,” “Circle Of Life” draws heavily from African music, with Elton John pairing indigenous rhythms with his patented soaring melodicism. The blend has a genuine dramatic sweep: within its surging melody and choruses, there’s the sense of an entire world waiting to be discovered.

One of the small wonders in the vast Disney catalog, “Little April Shower” presents the dramatic arc of Bambi in miniature. The song opens delicately, gaining momentum as the chorus sings about nature springing to life with the fall of the rain. Just when everything seems copacetic, storm clouds amass on the horizon, drowning out everything in its path, only to blow away into the distance, leaving behind a world that’s refreshed and beautiful.

A showstopper within , “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” is an exuberant piece of nonsense. The Sherman Brothers build the song upon a bouncy beat and phonetic play, one where the literal meaning isn’t nearly as important as hidden rhymes, unexpected punchlines and cartoonish phrasing, the latter being a special strength of Dick Van Dyke. As infectious as it is irritating, “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” shows that absurdity can be its own reward.

“Happy Working Song” is an affectionate spoof of Disney princess cliches. Specifically, it sends up “Whistle While You Work,” one of the key songs from Disney’s very first feature, Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs. There, the woodland creatures are animated, so they seem soft and sweet, completely harmless. In , Amy Adams’ Giselle summons rodents and cockroaches to help her clean an apartment in a city—a grotesque, funny twist on a theme that’s written and performed with no small amount of heart.

Robert Zemeckis somehow neglected to include “Give A Little Whistle” in his 2022 live-action remake of , a baffling decision considering the song is such an effervescent delight. Here, Jiminy Cricket instructs a newly awakened Pinocchio that he should “always let your conscience be your guide,” a piece of advice that seems good-hearted, not hectoring, thanks to the agile tune and the warm cheer of Cliff Edwards, who sings the song from the perspective of a good, patient friend.

The love theme from , “Someday My Prince Will Come” carries a palpable sense of yearning, a feeling that never teeters into despair. Snow White is convinced her prince will arrive someday, an optimism that’s evident not only in the lyric but in its lovely tune. As a melody, “Someday My Prince Will Come” shimmers gorgeously yet not seductively, the kind of theme jazz musicians can build and expand in their own renditions. Dave Brubeck covered it first but it was Miles Davis’ 1961 version that turned the song into a modern jazz standard, recorded by such titans as Herbie Hancock and Chick Corea.

In a musical filled with show-stoppers, “Gaston” is the funniest number in , a rousing singalong that skewers macho archetypes. By the time the diminutive LeFou leads a pub in an ode to Gaston, it’s clear that the brute is the villain of the piece. Instead of turning him into an object of fear, “Gaston” paints him as a subject of ridicule, depicting his bullying and dunderheaded actions in a fashion that’s not only revealing but paints a full portrait of his character.

“Baby Mine” appears in when the flying elephant is being reassured by his imprisoned mother, who reaches out for her child through the bars in her cage. She’d been sent there after attacking the ringleader, all in the service of protecting her child, a decision that separates the pair and helps set up the poignancy of the song. “Baby Mine” is warm with a slight air of melancholy, offering comfort at a time of pain—a deep, complex blend of emotions that suit Dumbo, as well as parenthood itself.

confirmed that The Little Mermaid wasn’t a fluke and that the Disney animated studios had entered a whole new golden era. Some of the success of Aladdin can be credited to the dynamic performance of Robin Williams—it’s one of his film roles that replicates the manic energy of his stand-up comedy—but composer Alan Menken and lyricist Tim Rice played a crucial part in Disney’s comeback, balancing their witty show-stoppers with soaring romantic ballads. “A Whole New World,” which won the Oscar for Best Original Song, may be the best ballad Menken wrote for Disney, a majestic duet where it feels like the lovers are discovering new vistas with each successive stanza.

Right in the middle of Disney’s 1973 adaptation of lies “Not In Nottingham,” a bittersweet little song crafted by Roger Miller. Usually prized as a prankster—he’s responsible for such country classics as “Chug-a-Lug” and “You Can’t Roller Skate In A Buffalo Herd”—Miller also had a way with a melancholy turn of phrase, a skill that came in handy when the had to compose a sad melody for a sequence where the residents of Nottingham are all imprisoned by the greedy Prince John. Miller extends his focus slightly outside of Nottingham, coming up with a tune with a keen sense of longing.

Upon its release in 1933, Three Little Pigs was the most popular film Disney ever released, breaking box office records and helping to keep the studio afloat. “Who’s Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf” played a pivotal role in its success. Sung by two carefree pigs who are skeptical of the threat posed by the wolf lurking in the woods, “Who’s Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf” plays as a clever update of a nursery rhyme, or perhaps even a folktale. Composer Frank Churchill shows wit in his rhymes but it’s the sing-song chorus that turned it into a smash in 1933 and its nagging refrain remains familiar nearly 90 years later.

The crown jewel of the soundtrack, the song that won the Sherman Brothers the Oscar, “Chim Chim Cheree” speaks to the duo’s invention. The pair convinced Disney to set the adaptation earlier than Travers books, which allowed them to write a tune for a chimney sweep. There’s a bit of starry wonder to the lilting melody; it conveys another time, one that seems to exist only as a dream.

The lone surviving tune from Disney’s initial stab at adapting , Terry Gilkyson’s “The Bare Necessities” could almost be mistaken for a Sherman Brothers song. Listen closely and it’s evident that the sharp wit of the Shermans has been replaced by warm bonhomie, a swap that has its own charm. A lot of that appeal can be placed on the shoulders of Phil Harris, an actor with his own bearish allure. He gives “The Bare Necessities” a carefree swing that proves hard to resist.

An old-fashioned showstopper, “Be Our Guest” would’ve sounded right at home on the Broadway stage in the 1950s or 1960s. Instead, it played a crucial role in , the most lavish musical Disney released during its second golden age of the 1990s. Howard Ashman and Alan Menken fill the song with witty quips, delivered with knowing ease by Jerry Orbach and Angela Lansbury, a pair of old vets who can’t help but charm. Nevertheless, it’s the rousing singalong chorus that makes “Be Our Guest” irresistible: it’s warm and welcoming, eager to put a smile on your face.

Written by Alan Menken and Howard Ashman in a calypso fashion, “Under The Sea ‘’ percolates with steel drums and is powered by a melody so ebullient it seems as if it could summon the sun. That breeziness is a key to the song’s appeal: it feels like a ticket to another world, or at least to a pristine beach. “Under The Sea’’ played a huge role in the success of and, in turn, the revitalization of Walt Disney Studios in the 1990s. Not only did it win an Oscar for Best Song—the first Disney film to do so since Mary Poppins in 1964—but it showcased a studio that could deliver songs that were sharp and fresh, maybe even hip.

Modernist in its animation and aesthetic, features a songwriter at the heart of the story. Roger is the one who dreams up this swinging salute to a devil woman, taking as much pleasure in his put-downs as he does his melody. The song itself has the side effect of buttressing Cruella’s reputation as one of Disney’s great villains: only a badass would have a song this cool.

Viewed from a certain angle, “Pink Elephants On Parade” can be heard as a precursor to psychedelia. Certainly, the song is a trip, a clanking, cacophonic march married to ghoulish, impish images that seem lysergic, not alcoholic. Spooky and silly in equal measure, the song and sequence have lost none of its power to surprise, not when elephants are morphing into pyramids while brass bands blare discordant notes before descending into a rhumba.

As sung by Peggy Lee, “He’s A Tramp” sounds like a genuine torch song, a number that could be heard in a piano bar in the wee small hours. Such an inherent jazziness was a new wrinkle for Disney, who tended to eschew fads in favor of old-fashioned pop. The shift in direction reaped great dividends. “He’s A Tramp” has such a sly, playful edge, it almost seems to have been placed into instead of written for it: it’s good enough of a jazz-pop number to stand on its own.

A clever play on an old English phrase expressing weariness, “Heigh Ho” is the rallying call of the Seven Dwarfs, the thing they sing when heading off to work in a mine. It has the vaguest air of a work song but composer Frank Churchill and lyricist Larry Morey aren’t interested in drudgery. There’s a joy to the Dwarfs’ march, a spirit that helps give them dimension as characters while also making it amenable to cover versions: Dave Brubeck made it swing and Tom Waits turned it into a gleeful macabre march.

“You’ve Got A Friend in Me ‘’ is a rare thing, a song that feels as much a part of the songwriter’s identity as it does Disney. That songwriter would be Randy Newman, a beloved cult figure of the 1970s who cultivated a secondary career as a film composer. “You’ve Got A Friend In Me” carries a bit of the lilting New Orleans roll so familiar to Newman but it’s not cynical, it’s earnest and sweet, capturing a childhood love for its cherished toy.

The centerpiece in Disney’s unexpected 2013 blockbuster , “Let It Go” turned into an anthem of empowerment embraced by listeners of all backgrounds. Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez composed an inherently dramatic melody, one containing a majestic sweep that can’t quite be contained to either screen or stage. As a pure power ballad, “Let It Go” is mighty yet its resonance is how the song provides a turning point in Frozen, marking the point where Elsa, a queen whose touch can turn anything into ice, embraces her awesome and terrifying powers. That message of self-acceptance gives “Let It Go” an air of empowerment, a feeling that reverberates far outside the confines of Frozen itself.

When adding songs to Disney’s adaptation of , the Sherman Brothers came up with the notion that as the king of the apes King Louie would be the king of the swing, an idea that led them to “I Wan’na Be Like You.” A riotous big band number, “I Wan’na Be Like You” thoroughly channels the boisterous spirit of Louis Prima, a jump blues singer who was a fixture in Vegas. As Prima duets with Phil Harris, the pair sound like a couple of hip cats trading jibes, while the melody is so snazzy it seems as if it belongs to Vegas nightclubs, not Disney.

At the core of the Disney legacy lies “When You Wish Upon A Star,” a song that exudes hope and dreams. Within the confines of , a movie unafraid to explore the darker side of fairy tales, it can seem slightly melancholy, but the years have eroded those blue overtones, leaving behind a song that seems earnestly sweet. Little wonder it effectively became the studio’s theme song, heard at the beginning of each of their films: it crystalizes the essence of wonder at the heart of the best of Disney.