My name is Miss Connie Farthing, spinster of Worthing Town
And this is my new diary bought to write my experiences down.
Such a wonderful holiday, how can it have passed so soon
It seems only yesterday I unpacked in my lovely little room.
My first visit to Yorkshire, and Whitby, so lovely and demure
Situated on its rugged, battered coast, it's bracing air so pure.
We'd visited the Abbey, and walked along the cliff
Had to lean into the wind, blowing cool and stiff;
There's an old wreck lying below down on the sands
The skeleton saying it wasn't always a quiet welcoming land.
But to the point dear diary, yesterday Maude and Clara and me
Walked gently into the very centre to partake of afternoon tea.
We'd passed the Clarion Tea Room two or three times before
Been fascinated by the music that floated through the door.
We found a little table, all chintz and china and lace
Situated in a corner giving a clear view of the place.
I saw him when he entered, admired his distinguished hair
Hardly credited my eyes and ears when he stood by my chair
Bowing oh so slightly he asked, would I care to take the floor
Then swept me round the room, half an hour or maybe more.
Oh how the hours passed, nestled safely in his arms
A man of sophisticated tastes, very persuasive charms.
He danced the waltz divinely, tangoed like a god,
It was as though he didn't tread earth's common sod.
Maude and Clara didn't comment as I slipped quietly in to bed
At nearly half four in the morning, what was there to be said.
Such a wonderful time tasting life's delights
Late in to the evening and most of that night
He left me at the door with kiss so sweet and chaste
Saying duty called, he was leaving Whitby in haste
But if fate permitted he'd often be back around.
Then off into that night with scarcely a sound.
Maude and Clara kept looking, they wanted to ask I think
But I just kept on smiling, gave them an occasional wink:
And diary dear diary,what a wonderful wonderful holiday's end,
Such an apt name; Frend, he was called Frend, James Frend.
