If feather-bare we toured our plight
round Britain’s eleven thousand and seventy two
wire free mile circumference bringing eggs to you
we wing-clipped osteoporosised amputees
struggling along in twos and threes
to bring you scrawny chicken stew
we wouldn’t make a pretty sight
we know you wouldn’t like to see
so we’ll crouch in A4 cages without light
to lay those guilty eggs tonight.
aplaceforpoetry 
Standing ovation from me and my free roaming chickens! When I see the happiness of chickens doing chicken things (scratching, flapping, chasing and generally being inquisitive) it breaks my heart to think that this isn’t the norm. Well said!!
Joyful clucking noises to you and your chickens x