 Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian
Standing by the door
He fell in love with an Indian maid
Over in the antique store.
Kaw-Liga just stood there
And never let it show
So she could never answer
Yes or no.
He always wore his Sunday feathers
And held a tomahawk
The maiden wore her beads and braids
And hoped someday he'd talk.
Kaw-Liga too stubborn
To ever show a sign
Because his heart
Was made of knoty pine.
Poor ol' Kaw-Liga
He never got a kiss
Poor ol' Kaw-Liga
He don't know what he missed.
Is it any wonder
That his face is red
Kaw-Liga
That poor ol' wooden head.
Kaw-Liga was a lonely Indian
Never went nowhere
His heart was set on the Indian maid
With the coal black hair.
Kaw-Liga just stood there
And never let it show
So she could never answer
Yes or no.
And then one day a wealthy customer
Bought the Indian maid
And took her, oh, so far away
But ol' Kaw-Liga stayed.
Kaw-Liga just stands there
As lonely as can be
And wishes he was still
An old pine tree.
Poor ol' Kaw-Liga
He never got a kiss
Poor ol' Kaw-Liga
He don't know what he missed.
Is it any wonder
That his face is red
Kaw-Liga
That poor ol' wooden head.
Kaw-Liga that poor ol' wooden head...
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