With blue cold nose, and wrinkled brow, O, pilgrim sick, where goeat thou? Your body is go thin and frail, Why do you tramp through storm and hail? "I'm fighting:, sir," ho gasped for breath, "I'm fighting against the spectro Death ; And now I'm journeying to secure The aid of Wood« r Great Pcpnenamt Cure."— Advt.
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Bibliographic details
Evening Post, Volume LXXVIII, Issue 8, 9 July 1909, Page 3
Word Count
56Page 3 Advertisements Column 1 Evening Post, Volume LXXVIII, Issue 8, 9 July 1909, Page 3
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