iPoem · 2122.697.703.861 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

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 2122.697.703.861 (no. 797,815) was generated on October 15, 2026 at 8:08 am
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