When all the gleaming lights grow pale, Eclipsed and shamed by dawn of day, When music mocks and mirth seemt stale, “The Pains of Pleasure” price we pay When chill’d and hoarse we greet the morn, With joy’s reaction to endure, The world would be indeed forlorn, Uncheered by Woods’ Great Peppermint Cure.
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Bibliographic details
Nelson Evening Mail, Volume LVI, 17 July 1925, Page 5
Word Count
53Page 5 Advertisements Column 2 Nelson Evening Mail, Volume LVI, 17 July 1925, Page 5
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