1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
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 7537.6223.982.671 (no. 809,167) was generated on November 14, 2026 at 7:41 am
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