1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
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 7543.678.730.308 (no. 800,576) was generated on October 22, 2026 at 6:56 pm
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