Somewhere, a voice is calling, calling, A petulant hoarse refrain ; ’Tis the voice of a loved one bawling, Calling me back again. A wail from the nursery falling, falling, Poor Clarice has croup, I’m sure ; The voice of my darling calling, calling, For Woods’ Great Peppermint Cure.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/NZT19170628.2.77.1
Bibliographic details
New Zealand Tablet, 28 June 1917, Page 47
Word Count
47Page 47 Advertisement 1 New Zealand Tablet, 28 June 1917, Page 47
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