[ADAMS, spoken]
Dear God! For one solid year, they have been sitting here! A whole year! Doing nothing!

(sung)
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?

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

[CONGRESSMAN]
Someone ought to open up a window!