Fight The Alton Bill! Chumbawamba

In ignorance, I still assumed this body was mine; that I could choose
I had faith for charity and understanding sympathy
But no, we're seen as baby machines
Face judge, jury, and male GPs
Found guilty, careless, callous, cold
And told the things we're always told
By the gentle, prime-time moralist on national daily news
With persuasive smile he'll take away a woman's right to choose
They say the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away
But not beyond the eighteenth week if Alton has his way!

Have you considered what you're going to lose?
Do you realise what you're asking me to do?
Are there medical reasons? And, oh, by the way
You know we can't help you unless you pay?

Desperation and a waiting list
You don't count blessings, just weeks missed
Problems are beginning to show
It's so impersonal, so painfully slow

Do you know what you'll put my conscience through?
Do you know just how few women are as lucky as you?
No, the delay's not deliberate; it just takes time
And maybe by then you'll have changed your mind