(Dear God! For one solid year they have been sitting here! A whole year! Doing nothing!)
I do believe you've laid a curse on North America
A curse that we here now rehearse in Philadelphia
A second flood, a simple famine
Plagues of locusts everywhere
Or a cataclysmic earthquake
I'd accept with some despair
But no, you sent us Congress
Good God, sir, was that fair?
I say this with humility in Philadelphia
We're your responsibility in Philadelphia
If you don't want to see us hanging
From some far-off British hill
If you don't want the voice of independency
Forever still
Then God, sir, get thee to it
For Congress never will
You see, we piddle, twiddle, and resolve
Not one damn thing do we solve
Piddle, twiddle, and resolve
Nothing's ever solved in foul, fetid, fuming, foggy, filthy
Philadelphia
Someone ought to open up a window!
(Good God!)
They may sit here for years and years in Philadelphia
These indecisive grenadiers of Philadelphia
They can't agree on what is right and wrong
Or what is good or bad
I'm convinced the only purpose this Congress ever had
Was to gather here specifically to drive John Adams mad
You see we piddle, twiddle, and resolve
Not one damn thing do we solve
Piddle, twiddle, and resolve
Nothing's ever solved in foul, fetid, fuming, foggy, filthy
Philadelphia
Abigail:
John, John, is that you carrying on?
John?
John:
(Oh Abigail, Abigail, I have such a desire to knock heads together!)
Abigail:
(I know, my dearest, I know. But that's because you make everything so complicated. It's all quite simple, really.)
Just tell the Congress to declare
Independency
Then sign your name, get out of there
And hurry home to me
Our children all have dysentery
Little Tom keeps turning blue
Little Abby has the measles, and I'm coming down with flu
They say we may get smallpox
John:
(Uh, madam, what else is new? Abigail, in my last letter, I wrote you to organize the ladies to make saltpeter for gunpowder. Have you done as I asked?)
Abigail:
(No, John, I have not.)
John:
(Why have you not?)
Abigail:
(John! I'm afraid we have a more urgent problem.)
John:
(More urgent, madam?)
Abigail:
There's one thing every woman's missed in Massachusetts Bay
Don't smirk at me, you egotist
Pay heed to what I say
We've gone from Framingham to Boston and we cannot find a pin
"Don't you know there's war on?" say the tradesmen with a grin
Well, we will not make saltpeter until you send us pins!
John:
(Pins, madam? Saltpeter!)
Abigail:
(Pins!)
John:
(Saltpeter!)
Abigail:
(Pins!)
John:
(Saltpeter!)
Abigail:
(Pins!)
John:
(Saltpeter!)
Abigail:
(Pins!)
John:
('peter!)
Abigail:
(Pins!)
John:
('peter!)
Abigail:
(Pins!)
John:
('peter!)
Abigail:
(Pins!)
John:
('peter!)
Abigail:
(Pins!)
John:
(Done, madam. Done.)
Abigail:
(Done, John. Hurry home, John.)
John:
(Oh, as soon as I'm able.)
Abigail:
(Don't stop writing. It's all I have.)
John:
(Every day, my dearest friend.)
Till then
Till then
I am
As I ever was, and ever shall be
Yours
Yours
Yours
Yours
Yours
Saltpeter. John
Pins. Abigail
(For God's sake, John, sit down.)
