1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 8034.6658.498.359 (no. 802,956) was generated on October 29, 2026 at 8:03 am
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