1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum

Based on Raymond Queneau’s A Hundred Thousand Billion Poems, The 100,000,000,000,000 iPoem is a non-commercial artistic project inspired by Queneau’s work and the tradition of literary variation it inaugurated.
→ iPoem 504.6187.316.828 (no. 790,207) was generated on July 1, 2026 at 9:38 pm
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