Not just a beautiful piece of music, operatic in scale, but a profoundly well made epic poem. I include the lyrics below, which stand alone as a piece of historical literature. I mean to write an essay on this, as a song, and as a stand-alone poem, and make a plea that it be known in the world of letters. And in the schools. It deserves a place in the American canon. The death dirge alone is enough to have convinced me of this. An unsung genius, this man, and the song is virtually unknown. With thanks to my brother, for turning me on to it when I was a child, and to Chrissy, and Dave, whose travels, conversation, and poems, have put Wounded Knee back into my orbit of thought. Turn up the volume. You'll weep. You'll dance. You'll fall to your knees.
I think it's time, great white father, that you knew my name.