Aretha Franklin - Rose of washington square - remastered lyrics

A garden that never knew sunshine Once sheltered a beautiful rose In the shadows it grew, without sunlight or dew As a child of the city grows A bu*terfly flew to the garden From out of the blue sky above The heart of the rose set a flutter With a wonderful tale of love He told her of birds and of bees Of the brooks and the meadows and trees, he whisper'd Rose of Washington Square, a flower so Fair, should blossom where the sun shines Rose, for nature did not mean, that you should Blush unseen, but be the queen, of some fair garden Rose, I'll never depart, but dwell in your Heart, your love to care, I'll bring the Sunbeams from the Heavens to you, and Give you kisses that sparkle with dew, my Rose of Washington Square But after the summer comes autumn When flowers their petals must close For the songbirds are still and the breezes are chill To the cheek of the blushing rose The gay bu*terfly's wings are folded The heart of the rose has grown cold A bu*terfly lives but a season And a rose in a week grows old The meadows the brooks and the trees Like the birds and the flowers and bees, need sunshine () Comedy Version She's Rosie, the queen of the models She used to live up in the Bronx But she wander'd from there down to Washington Square And Bohemian Honky Tonks One day she met Harrison Fisher Said he, "You're like roses, the stems I want you to pose for a picture On the cover of 'Jim Jam Jems'" And that's how she first got her start Now her life is devoted to art, they call her Rose of Washington Square She's withering there In basement air she's fading Pose in plain or fancy clothes They say her Roman nose It seems to please, artistic people Beaux She's plenty of those, with secondhand clothes And nice long hair, she's got those Broadway vampires lashed, to the mast She's got no future but oh! what a past, she's Rose of Washington Square She's terrible good as a model The artists are stuck on her charms Once a feller said he would paint Venus from her Only Venus ain't got no arms Rube Goldberg her figure admires He dresses her up in a veil And uses her shape for the pictures that He draws in the Ev'ning Mail He promised sometime when he's free That he'll model a statue of she, they call her ()