For those of you with a less artistic bent than my good self I thought I would critique Rubens's masterpiece The Three Gracie Fields with a masterpiece of my own. A couple of the hoes are single mums already and have shamelessly brung their whelps along to the shag fest - a scene re-enacted most Saturday nights in the backyard of The Cock and Pullet, Donny.
An expanse of alabaster
Makes their bums seem even vaster
As they sported in the bower with a pair of horny swains;
A mut seems to be sniffing
At one’s arse which must be whiffing
But the boys are clearly thinking with their pricks and not their brains.