Rita was a battery hen
And every day was bleak;
For her, life's stage was just a cage,
And meagre corn her only wage,
But things all changed for Rita when
She learned that she could speak.

She overheard the farmer say
"That cage is getting weak,
That's not just dust, but flakes of rust
And if the hens gave one quick ******
They'd all be free to run away
And we'd be up the creek!"

She waited till the dark of night,
Then pushed into the gaps;
The bars were old, the bars were cold,
It seemed as though the bars would hold,
But Rita shoved with all her might
And felt the cage collapse!

She ran right out the farmyard
In the moonlight, dim and pale;
No more is known of where she's flown,
I hope she found a lovely home,
Perhaps she'll send a greeting card
To tell of her next tale!