Friday, March 7, 2008

John And Abigail From 1776: Piddle, Twiddle And Resolve


Adams:

I do believe you've laid a curse on North America
A curse that we now here 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 it with humility in Philadelphia
We're your responsibility in Philadephia
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
Philadephia!
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
Philadephia!
Congress:
Someone oughta open up a window!
Adams:
Oh good God!
Abigail:
John, John, is that you carrying on, John?

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 Abbey has the measles
And I'm coming down with flu
They say we may get smallpox
Adams:
Madam, what else is new?
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 a war on?"
Say the tradesmen with a grin
Well, we will not make saltpeter
Until you send us pins!
Both:
Till then, till then
I am as I ever was and ever shall be
Yours, yours, yours, yours, yours
Adams:
Saltpeter, John
Abigail:
Pins, Abigail
Congress:
For God's sake, John, sit down

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