Sherman Edwards - Piddle, Twiddle, And Resolve/Till Then lyrics

(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 Ma**achusetts 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.)