Inspired by the sight as I picked them up of my wife, daughter and her friend in Beverley on Race Day.

 

It’s Ladies Day at Ponte Racecourse

Fine sights for a young man to see

Girls nobbed up just like circus ponies

A spectacle gaudy but free

And clutching their glass of Prosecco

The Pontefract Shagnasty Three.

 

They cut quite a dash did our threesome

Short skirts barely covered their arse

Black slugs painted on did for eyebrows

Three bellies revealing stretch scars

Six collagen lips always pouting

And none of them wearing their bras.

 

“Ey up!” say a bloke in wax jacket

“Watch out for this ‘ere tattooed man”

“Fuck off” says Deb pushing past him

Followed behind by Big Fran;

He got kneed in the nuts by Big Sandra

“Pick us a winner” says San.

 

The Ladies continue their outing

With shouts and swearing and squeals

Sandra’s not used to being dressed up

And totters about on her heels.

But nothing can stop them from necking their shots

In Happy Hour 2 for 1 deals.

 

Then Debra is sick in the Ladies

She’d drunk a bit more than she planned

While Frances gets rode by a jockey

Behind The Memorial Stand

The jockey says “Ee, that were champion”

“Aye” says Fran, “It wa grand”.

 

They blagged their way in the Parade Ring

Where Sandra would break a high heel

Mixing with owners and sponsors

And snogging with Jonjo O’Neil

When stallions paraded before them

Deb reached out to cop a quick feel.

 

But a day out like this with no ruckus

Is scarcely a proper to-do

Till San spies their lifelong enemies –

The Mogg Twins, The Castleford Two.

The Shagnasty Three plan their tactics

And ambush them outside the loo.

 

It starts off with pushing and shoving

The catfight progresses from there

With scratching and biting and ripping

And pulling at highlighted hair

The stewards wade in to break up the fun

But not till San’s titties were bare.

 

The afternoon sun’s unrelenting

Which adds to this memorable day

The three of them keep on betting

And losing to their dismay

Fran goes off to look for her jockey

“I fancy another each-way”

 

The racing's all over by tea time

As good things must all come to pass

It's all been too much for Big Sandra

Who's prostrate passed out on the grass

They stuff old kebebs in their handbags

The Mogg Twins have headed for Ca.

 

Now Frances no longer wears panties

And Sandra’s plight is plain to see

She’s crying her eyes out to Debra

Sat in her vomit and pee

But tomorrow they’ll all want to do it again

The Pontefract Shagnasty Three.