1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum

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 2552.366.673.850 (no. 796,774) was generated on October 12, 2026 at 5:00 pm
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