1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 2503.411.218.818 (no. 806,286) was generated on November 6, 2026 at 10:58 am
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