Page 1 Advertisements Column 7

Evening Star, Issue 19891, 13 June 1928, Page 1

“Hi!” shouted O’Kelly to a bricklayer on the scaffold above him, “throw me a brick down!” “ Phwat for?” demanded the bricklayer. “Well,” explained O’Kelly, “don r t I need one more brick to fill this hod I’m bringing up?” Mrs Newlywed rushed in from the kitchen, a smoking pie-dish in her hands. She placed it on the table IB front of her husband. “There, dear,” she cooed, “ that’s a cottage pie.” “I’d have known it was cottage pie,” he remarked after the first* few mouthfuls. “You would?” she asked, delighted. “Yes,” he replied. “I can taste the thatched roof and the crazy paving. But what did you do with the bricks?” He leant across the old sliprail, And stroked her hair of gold; They lingered hours and hours and houri, And each one caught a cold. They’re married now, and happy, too, And say to each young wooer: “If at the gate you stay out late, Take Woods’ Great Peppermint Cure I* -£Adf*4 t