Every Autumn the Celts
Wild and superstitious to a one
Call the dead to the living world
In a ceremony and celebration
Called the Samhain
But our Legions have fought
For so long
We are not afraid
They build fires and walk between
Bonfires to call the dead
But we do the same
But burn their villages instead
The Icenii and others
Seek to rebel against our hand
But they cannot realize
How futile and foolish it is
This place is now
Caesar’s lands
They call out the dead
And dance and sing
But we will never leave
No matter what the fools
Believe
