1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
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 2934.8853.798.258 (no. 796,656) was generated on October 12, 2026 at 10:06 am
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