The Abortion Bowl

The baseball season must go on

It would not do to skip a game

The NBA champs must bounce their balls

And wrestlers take their practiced falls.


4000 souls will breathe their last

In mothers’ wombs imprisoned

Torn to bits and packed as waste

By doctors who get paid for haste.


One or two will vigil keep

Outside the mill on Murder Street

For human life, eternal souls

Whose blood is in abortion bowls.


While tens of thousands cheer and roar

Who will never block an abortion door

They line up before dawn for tickets rare

But as for life, they do not care.