Four score and seven henks ago... our Clownfathers brought forth on this planet, a new nation, conceived in laughter, and dedicated to the proposition that all Clowns are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great space war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great honk-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their shoes that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave Clowns, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The galaxy will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly henked. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great honking remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of humor -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have honked in vain -- that this nation, under Honk'sie, shall have a new Banana of freedom -- and that government of the Clowns, by the Clowns, for the Clowns, shall not perish from the universe.
Bananablaster the Henkmeister
Clownplanet - Unspecified date and time during the Clown / Mime war.