The tailor was ill with a dangerous chill, And his breath came in fluttering "pants," His life, so they said, just hung by a "thread," For the doctor had murmured "bo chance." No words can ex-"press" his awful distress, But it "seams" that he put up a fight: He took the thing sure. WoodsPeppermint Cure, "Sew," "needless" to say, he got right. 3.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/NA19110222.2.14.3
Bibliographic details
Northern Advocate, 22 February 1911, Page 3
Word Count
63Page 3 Advertisements Column 3 Northern Advocate, 22 February 1911, Page 3
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