1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 921.2193.79.861 (no. 790,127) was generated on June 29, 2026 at 5:45 pm
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