When time was young and the earth was quite old,
Then, as now, the folk were quite bold,

Then there was a load of lusty lasses
Whose posteriors had never known cold.

The gaggle of women sported asses
Of prodigious and ponderous masses

The same sort of swells recorded in lore.
United, though all were different classes.

In union because of an ample store,
With more than their shares in posterior,

Each was a sexual creature sublime
But none of the lot could be called a whore.

The slap of their asses could ring like a chime,
The curve of each asscheek was like a rhyme,

The very curves caused all men to stoop,
To make even in winter a springtime.

They formed quite a callipygian troupe
The grand and glorious gluteal group,

Not all ponies, these beauties with booties
Who would never let their derrieres droop.

The makes of these legendary cuties:
First a mix of the races of ponies

Two griffins, two zebras, a Dig Dog,
And three of the sweetest, thickest donkeys.

The pegasus was quite an attention hog;
The unicorn's buns left males all agog;

The earth pony's flanks were nice, thick and plush;
The mix of bottoms left folk in a fog.

One griffin albino, rounded and lush;
One melanistic with much larger tush;

Much more than other griffins could claim
Between white and black bottoms men would gush.

Each stripéd cheek could make a man exclaim,
But all four zebra swells set loins aflame.

Many non-zebras lined up to endure
The clapping cheeks of the girls' 'end-game.'

The Dog was much the reverse of demure,
Thought her swelled booty was truly cocksure.

Blessed with big buns that could swallow a head
She was the peak of culo curvature.

Each donkey butt was surely overfed
Showing generations cunningly bred.

A sextet well worthy of highest praise
Which quaked and quivered with each gentle tread.

Eleven stars to enrapture the gaze,
Twenty-two swells for an army to glaze,

Keepers of the peace when all went awry,
Such earned their fame and made their legend blaze.

Saddle Arabia, now an ally,
In those days the princesses they did decry;

So out did they send an invading force,
Which volunteers were sent to pacify.

At the edge of the nation of the Horse
Were the ample eleven for discourse.

The loyal warriors of the Caliph
Were stopped by the promise of intercourse.

The horses stared at them in disbelief
For they had endured long without relief.

They watched the eleven past their land's edge
And thought that their distraction would be brief.

Such debauchery was a sacrilege,
Enticing them their naked cocks to wedge.

The bottom-focused stallions were so torn,
But knew they were offered a rare privilege.

Cock between the cheeks of the unicorn,
The horse licking at her proud, spiral horn.

The horses were sheltered and insular;
Desire for difference was inborn.

Their differences seemed right, not bizarre;
Parts besides butts seemed very singular.

Cutie Marks, knob-knees or wings that did flap,
Ordinary ,and yet spectacular.

Eleven asses soon began to clap,
Twenty-two buttcheeks going 'slap slap slap'

As they were battered by desperate hips
While tightly those cocks the cheeks did enwrap.

The first creamy geysers gushed from their tips,
Gooey paste watering the ground in drips.

The well-frosted buns did strongly inspire
The horses to also go after their lips.

Slurping gags and chokes lit passionate fire,
As each clapping butt cradled a new spire.

Their bellies were warmed as tonsils were bruised,
And soon the horse army they did drain and tire.

Throats and glutes were both exquisitely used
From lips and off swells the horse issue oozed.

The eager eleven just had to laugh.
Peaceful living they no longer refused.

They were praised for every load they did quaff,
With honors given for every staff.

They rightly earned glory by being free,
Using their forms on their nation's behalf.

That it was a triumph the nation could agree,
The land rang with their cheerful jubilee.

But they deserved an enduring reward,
A bit of praise in the highest degree.

As the peacemakers they were greatly adored,
And the Princesses stood in one accord,

It took only a moment to decide
The tale of the Passion Peace they'd record.

Commissioned they Di-azs, most qualified,
And in his skill all their trust did reside.

“So come now, ladies, let your tale be told.”
And so thusly began the ribald ride:

Author's Note

The Ruba'i (singular form of Rubayat) is an interesting little poetic form. I sort of made an error by forgetting internal rhymes and I am forever shamed by that. But one fascinating thing I picked up is, as you can see, lines one, two and four of each stanza rhyme, while line three rhymes with the main lines of the following stanza, making chain rhymes out of them. I had heard that some rubayat chain rhymes until the end, meaning the last stanza's off rhyme is the same as the first stanza's main rhymes. So I set a challenge to myself to make it alphabetically circular. If you track rhyme in the standard form (AABA, BBCB, etc) you will see the last connects to the first (ZZAZ). I also (weakly) attempted to make the whole ruba'i circular, that the last line implies that the first one is to be said. Just me being silly.