The boy stood on the frozen deck, And wished that he was dead ; The wind blew round his naked neck, The rain beat on his head, He caught a cold—a killing cough , And said, ‘l'm done for,sure’,* But now he’s well, his cold is off, Through Woods’ Great Peppermint Cure.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/NZT19120725.2.59.1
Bibliographic details
New Zealand Tablet, 25 July 1912, Page 41
Word Count
50Page 41 Advertisement 1 New Zealand Tablet, 25 July 1912, Page 41
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