1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 2580.7733.535.389 (no. 802,199) was generated on October 27, 2026 at 4:01 am
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