the black cloud when it roars on the tops of
the trees of the wilderness Long did the strong
voice of Scanada

cry, Children take care, be
ware, be straight his feet were then like the
deer's, and his arm like the bear's; he now
can only mourn out a few words and then
be silent and his voice will soon be heard
no more in Oneida But certainly he will
long be in the minds of his children, in white
men's minds Scanada's name hath gone
far, and will not die He hath spoken
many words to make his Children straight:
long hath he said, drink no strong water, for
it makes you mice for white people who are
cats many a meal have they eaten of you
their mouth is a snare, and their way like
the fox their lips are sweet, but their hearts
are wicked yet there are good whites and
good Indians

The ground where their church stands, and their
burying place is included in the stole