They call me 'Rose of Washington Square'

I’m withering there in basement air

I’m fading

Pose in plain or fancy clothes

They say my rolling nose

It seems to please artistic people

Foes

I’ve plenty of those

With second-hand clothes

And nice long hair

I’ve got those Broadway vampires last to the mast

I’ve got no future, but oh, what a past!

I’m Rose of Washington Square