1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?

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 2541.2709.711.154 (no. 797,385) was generated on October 14, 2026 at 5:38 am
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