The Town Burned

The town burned,
The Indians took to pillage.
As the Patriots would learn,
Nothing was left of their little village.

The spinning red winds,
Took no care.
Entered every home,
And stripped it bare.

While in the fields,
Burnt crops there lay.
Corn, wheat, potatoes and fruits,
The loyalists even burned the hay.

Shots ripped from the Fort,
The Patriots took careful aim.
Very few fell,
And still the raiders came.

They left the town,
The sun started to set.
The Patriots rejoiced,
But it was still not over yet.

Johnson returned with cannon,
Two big blasts rang out into the dark.
The first cleared the Fort,
While the second hit its mark.

All the way from Schenectady,
The great fires could be seen.
The people of Schoharie fled, 
Using the woods as their screen.