This joke has been our refuge from one generation to another:
Before the mountains were brought forth this joke was lusty and of good repute:
In the life of this joke a thousand years are but as yesterday.
Blessed, therefore, is this joke, which now resteth from its labors.
But most of our jokes are of little continuance: though there be some so strong that they come to fourscore years, yet is their humor then but labor and sorrow:
For a joke that is born of a humorist hath but a short time to live and is full of misery. It cometh up and is cut down like a flower. It fleeth as if it were a shadow and abideth but one edition.
It is sown in quotation, it is raised in misquotation: We therefore commit this joke to the files of the country newspapers, where it shall circulate forever, world without end.