Along the Wall

My home was Germania
But I fought for the 9th
We fought in Caledonia
A land so fierce
A wall was built
To stop at least for a moment
The tide of the Picts
The Picts followed the signs
As read by a mystic leader
They were superstitious
They were wild
One dead or twenty
They never stopped
And in all of Albion
They were the only tribe
To kill a legion
Of the Emperor