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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, beware, 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