1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 7359.2355.93.555 (no. 803,787) was generated on October 31, 2026 at 2:41 pm
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