In a way that, to say the least, is queer.
And to mingle among the throng I long,
And to poke my joke and warble my song—
But there's no one near
On sands or pier,
For everyone's gone and I'm left alone,
The Last of the Seaside Lodgers!
Note by Our Man Out of Town—Watering places—resorts where the visitor is pumped dry.