Yet outside those walls,
Live people enraged,
For they’ve never had any brawls…
Not a single man caged!

Inside lived a King
On a throne of gold.
Each finger had a ring,
And each toe, we are told.

“Why aren’t we inside?”
The Outies asked.
The King just sighed,
“No one likes an outcast.

Your city, well,
It must be staged…
It’s hard to sell
That no one’s been caged!”

“Wait, your highness,
Maybe we’ve misunderstood?
This is because we’re too pious…
Because we’re too good?”

“My, how wondrous!
How terrifically grand!
This could have been thunderous…
I thought you’d not understand!”

So the Outies went home
Filled with sorrow and pity,
Past the towering stone,
And back to their city.

They decided they couldn’t respect
The man beneath the crown.
Their statement would be direct:
They would break the wall down.

Both cities were young,
Both cities were prude,
But emotions were strung,
And war ensued.

The battle was horrid…
Thousands were killed.
New land was explored
For new graves to be filled.

In the end, the King lay
On a heap of bodies,
His skin turning gray,
And lightly rotted.

Among those slain
Were sisters and mothers,
Yet what remained
Half one city, half of the other.

So they combined,
Grievances forgotten,
And over time,
Cleaned up what was rotten.

A former Outie was named King
He rebuilt the place
With his inherited rings
And his kindly old face

But soon security grew poor.
Bandits were near,
Breaking through doors!
The decision was clear.

But the kingdom wasn’t rich,
Although they were imperial.
They were forced to cut and stitch
Due to lack of materials.

Besides, the Easterners were odd!
They were far too pleased
For mere farmers of sod!
So, they were cut off with ease!

Now the concrete has set,
The walls are built.
People inside are content,
And they harbor no guilt.

Yet outside those walls,
Live people enraged,
For they’ve never had any brawls…
Not a single man caged!...