1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum

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 2057.5919.20.357 (no. 795,580) was generated on October 9, 2026 at 1:50 pm
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