I like double entendre because then the people who get it enjoy it, and the people who don't get it don't know about it.
The fabliau, then, is a short story that is a tall story. It combines a burly blurting of dirty words with a reveling in humiliations that are good unclean fun. A popular venture that is keen to paste—épater—everybody (not just the bourgeoisie), it is the art of the single entendre. Highly staged low life, it guffaws at the pious, the prudish, and the priggish. High cockalorum versus high decorum…. The introduction here, like the translator’s note, tells well the story of the comic tales, anonymous for the most part, usually two or three hundred lines long, of which about 160 exist.
There is a single entendre, but I don't know about a triple one.
Wolves eat coyotes," Gordon said[. . . ] If he weren't an old man, I had some rude things I could have said to that. "Yes," observed Adam blandly. "I do. " Yep. That was the one that came to mind. And he didn't even blush when he said it. Maybe Gordon would miss the double entendre. But he grinned cheerfully at Adam.