"Pro-life!" (pro-life),
That's how these people portray
Themselves, asserting that it starts on the day
Of conception then lasts nine full moons,
But when water pops, it stops,
They've changed their tunes.

They say "pro-life," (that’s life), but as funny as it may seem,
They're ready to kill those not on the team.
With women’s freedom, they ain’t down—
Got the minds of ’92* Salem town.

They love the fetus; it's fecund, it's feelings, they feel 'em.
They fawn till birth brings
Forth a cub, they frown, they're bummed, it came out,
No utero thing.
They only want to see a fetal face
As ultrasound scan, not in the human race.

“That's life! (pro-life)" To hell if you should deny it.
After birthin’ of baby, the life thing, they don’t so much buy it. . .
Couldn't care less if in childbirth a woman should die,
If you disagree, then in hell you will fry.

They love the fetus, it's fertile, no freedom for females;
The man is the king.
He will shtup and pound till ova will sprout
Inside that gal thing.
Month nine, reality hits ’em smack in the face:
Post-knockin’ the chick up. . .the kid leaves the womb place.

Pro-life (that’s life!) It’s a crime if you don’t buy it,
But when tiny creature’s comin’ out, they want to deny it.
For them, life starts, blink of a conceptual eye,
But when the kid is born, their interest starts to die.

Bye-bye.


*1692