A friend?

Small, flat-nosed Jew
Large head, tiny eyes
Two fine growths of hair which luxuriated in either nostril
This is my friend Mr. Wolfsheim

With his expressive nose
Filled with friends now gone forever
Filled with faces dead and gone
But full of memories
This is my friend Mr. Wolfsheim

Pulled him down
But don’t you, so help me, move outside this room
His nostrils turned to me in an interested way
I had a wrong man
This is my friend Mr. Wolfsheim

Began to eat with ferocious delicacy
Finest specimens of human molars
I’m going to run off from you two young men before I outstay my welcome
Shook hands and turned away his tragic nose
He becomes very sentimental sometimes
This is my friend Mr. Wolfsheim

A gambler
The man who fixed the World’s Series back in 1919
He’s a smart man
This is my friend Mr. Wolfsheim