by Guila Manchester
How would you like to live in a cage
Crowded with others so tight
You couldn't stretch out or spread your wings,
Not once from morning 'til night?
How would you like them to clip your beak
So you couldn't even preen?
Your oil gland would get all plugged up;
You wouldn't be fit to be seen.
How would you like them to make you molt
Until every feather was shed?
Because it made you lay more eggs.
(At least, that's what they said).
How would you like it never to know
How it feels to scratch in the dirt,
To stand on wire day after day
While your poor sore feet just hurt?
What does it take to make you see
That chickens have feelings, too?
If these awful things are ever to stop,
It depends on folks like you.
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