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 EsgpeoEint Cure. 15
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TDN19170817.2.13.3
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Taranaki Daily News, 17 August 1917, Page 3
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48Page 3 Advertisements Column 3 Taranaki Daily News, 17 August 1917, Page 3
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