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 Wood*' Great Psspemtat Cure. 13
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TDN19171001.2.35.4
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Taranaki Daily News, 1 October 1917, Page 5
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48Page 5 Advertisements Column 4 Taranaki Daily News, 1 October 1917, Page 5
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