1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum

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 2597.336.590.862 (no. 800,368) was generated on October 22, 2026 at 5:59 am
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