Debs: His Life, Writings and Speeches, with a Department of Appreciations

by Eugene V. Debs

You see, it’s like this, what his weaknesses is,

Them flowers makes him think of the days

Of his innocent youth, and that mother o’ his,

And the roses she used to raise;

So here all alone with the roses you send,

Bein’ sick and all trimbly and faint,

My eyes is—my eyes is—my eyes is—old friend,

Is a-leakin’—I’m blamed ef they ain’t!

And in the “Hoosier Bard’s” poem “Regardin’ Terry Hut,” appears these lines:

And there’s ’Gene Debs—a man ’at stands