Chorus
Now who can stand against us?
Is there power on earth to hold us?
Oh Sitting Bull, our precious leader,
Sitting Bull has joined us!
His were the eyes that saw for us
that headlong line of soldiers marching;
his was the hand that pulled the trap.
What spirits were with you then, my chief!
And now by the power of the living God
We'll scatter these others after.
Sitting Bull
Mock you, do I? Do I mock you?
Ah when has Sitting Bull mocked
such creatures as yourself?
Does he mock the little squirrels
that chatter at him from the branches?
Does he mock the noisy flies
that buzz around his face?
Ah I would not mock you.
Chorus
What shadows these pale men are.
And who would mock at a shadow?
Earth in her weary dreams has spawned
what tribes of them before!
Their names are all forgot by her;
she feels no living touch from them,
nor can their faceless cravings milk
the warmth out of her hidden breast.
The rising light of the newborn sun
will burn away their memory.
Sitting Bull
Play possum, do I? Am I a boy?
Thank your Savior you never saw me
when I had no need to play possum!
Would you rather have seen my buffalo bow
when the arrows sang out for your throat?
Who need your stinking provisions then?
Who need your rotten corn?
Ah but you'd have been a quiet one.
[The chorus approach him, carrying
a shirt. Drumbeats slower, in three.]
Chorus
Who is this stricken one?
O Father, do you see?
His eyes tell me he is a holy one.
I ask him in Your name,
will he accept the sign
of server in your blessed rite?
Sitting Bull
Oh, I will bury the world!
Chorus
Then don this sacred shirt.
It will keep you holy,
howl the wind or wend the world to dust.
When the cloud of His new morning
parts forever, it will
sanctify you in its light.
[They attempt to put the shirt on him.]
Sitting Bull
Away from me!
Chorus Leader
Come, chief.
Sitting Bull
I said away!
Chorus Leader
Now that you're with us, you must wear the shirt.
Sitting Bull
Oh, must I? Must I? Well then, give it here!
[He snatches the shirt from them and
puts it on. He begins to dance furiously.
Drumbeats in fast four.]
Now then, Savior,
take a look at me!
Send down your dust clouds!
Chorus (sundry voices)
Look at him.
Look at him.
They'll never stop us now.
He's holy.
Invincible.
He always was the best.
Sitting Bull
Hoofbeats, is it?
Nostrils, neighing?
Did you ever see prancing like this?
No? Murmur, you crowds!
Chorus (sundry voices)
Ha!
Ha!
Never, chief.
We always thought the world of you.
This one or the other.
Sitting Bull (looking upward)
So where's your swarming nations?
Where's your elk, hawk, buffalo?
Not a spider yet?
Don't You have worlds to spare?
And if someone throws one away,
Another will be given him.
Come, Savior, now, now!
Chorus (sundry voices)
What's he saying?
I don't know.
That's not the song, chief.
[Sitting Bull takes off the shirt,
rips it in two, and throws it to
the ground.]
Oh.
Ah.
Don't, chief.
Oh my heavens, no.
[Sitting Bull slumps to the ground.
The drumbeats stop.]
Sitting Bull
Oh ye gods and spirits!
You make a clown of me!
Chorus (sundry voices)
Is he all right?
I think so.
I don't want to ask.
Sitting Bull
And right you are. Right you are.
I threw down my bow.
Chorus (sundry voices)
You had to, chief.
But we can dance.
Not now.
Not now.
Sitting Bull
Oh birds, birds,
piping little birds.
Chorus (sundry voices)
What shall we do for him?
Just leave him be, I think.
[Some of them tentatively
go up to him.]
All right, now?
Chief?
Oh Sitting Bull, we're sorry.
[He allows himself to be helped up.]
Sitting Bull
Yes, I know.
And will be sorrier yet.
Chorus Leader
Forgive us, chief. We'll stop this if you wish.
Sitting Bull (recovering himself)
No, no; what you have started, you must finish.
When we have thrown away all other weapons,
We still may turn, if we have heart in us,
Upon our enemy, pick up what dirt
There is at hand, and pitch it in his face.
So dance, and shout the earth to sleeplessness,
And if by morning I hear any lull,
I swear that I will go to him myself,
And keep it up alone in front of him.
Chorus Leader
We fear we have brought danger on you, chief.
Sitting Bull
Who would not live forever? But as for me,
I crave no more sweet tang of mortal life,
Or any bright world of the loving dead.
While I must live, leave me on this poor earth
That he has spoiled for me, right at his side,
Where I may hound him to eternity;
And when I once forget to hate, then let
Her cold heart send me to oblivion,
And never stir to hear my name again.
So I will leave you; do your worthy dance.
Maybe by morning you will find me gone.
But like a good brave, I sleep with the sun,
And do not trouble darkness with my cries.
May you bring rolling nightmares on his head,
And you yourselves dance in eternal dawn,
But when you call your dead ones back to life,
Oh leave this one, leave Sitting Bull alone.
Because the things that have been done to me
Are more than any Savior can heal.
[Exit. The stage begins to darken.
They stand for a moment, then suddenly
grow feeble again and begin to sit down.]
Chorus (sundry voices)
Oh.
Oh my legs.
Oh my back.
We must have been out of our minds.
Grandfather.
Grandfather.
Careful, don't fall.
Oh, leave me alone!
Yes, leave him alone.
Hush.
Listen.
What's that?
[The Ghost Dance Song,
played instrumentally,
is heard faintly offstage.]
Oh no.
Where's it coming from?
Across the big ravine, I think.
We have to dance too, you know.
Well, I can't.
Sitting Bull says we must.
Oh, he didn't mean it.
Yes he did.
I can't even move.
[They listen a moment longer
as the stage continues to darken
and the music alternately fades
and grows more excited.]
It's the whirlwind.
It's the hoofbeats.
Prancing.
Neighing.
O Earth.
I can't stand to listen.
Well dance, then.
Shut up, old fool!
Oh, settle down.
[They continue to listen.]
Come, something else.
What?
Something old.
Not too old.
Soothing.
Sleepy.
Sing.
Sing.
When darkness swallows the broods of the sun
And tents our day's bright shards in shadow,
down from your cold bough, earth's little nestling,
shrill and clinging,
down must you flutter, O bird of my heart.
The brightness that the world has worn
must soon be shed, leaf, wing and feather;
pale enduring stars alone
shall pearl the dark till tender morning
weaves its frail rose-branch of light
for singers as frail as you.
What the burden of belly has brought to light,
shall that escape the devouring shadow?
Well may you cry, O creaturely voices
born of yearning,
well may you cry to the quick-winged dark.
When we that time should well have taught
still crack old throats to the dying prayer,
nor all our death-befriending thought,
but death itself, shall still the wild
and mortal heart, well may you cry,
O tenderest tongues of the earth.
(sundry voices)
Sleep.
Sleep, little birds.
And now you too, old nourishing nation,
now you too shall the shadows take.
No more shall your circle-pitched painted lodges,
blissfully smoking,
sing in the sun-fired circle of life.
May those who build upon your bones,
pitching great cities to the skies,
in bustling pride and greed and earth-
forgetfulness, someday out of their
heady dreams, remember you,
and see the way of all nations.
(woman)
Sleep, little bird.
Ghost Dancers main page | Preface | (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | Notes for performers