for whom the cock crows

Battery hens come without batteries
they're bald as a coot never seen the sun
nor scratched the Earth never run
all they ever do is squark and peck
like Canibal Lecter..
I picked three battery hens,
and put them  with my brood
of point of layers
they wouldn't move out of the hut
their courage already plucked
I had to dunk their beaks
in water, as they didn't know
what they ought too and boot them out
in to the yard.. they ran for cover 
under a palatte and watched my
chucks  play in the sun..
worm hunting..bathing in the dirt
making little hollows of  dust, chasing each other
with their hands in their pockets
but the newcomers were scared stiff !
the sky is falling I said..it's falling
battery hen..
as night fell all three crept back in
nested on the floor apart from
 one little miss
she took pole position
hudded up to the cockerel
in one day she had sussed
who was the boss.