1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
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 2621.8377.560.858 (no. 804,168) was generated on November 1, 2026 at 3:48 pm
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