Kaw-Liga

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 knotty pine

Poor old Kaw-Liga

He never got a kiss

Poor old Kaw-Liga

He don't know what he missed

Is it any wonder

That his face is red?

Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head

Kaw-Liga was a lonely Indian

Never went nowhere

His heart was set on the Indian maid

With the cold, 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 old Kaw-Liga stayed

Kaw-Liga

Just stands there as lonely as can be

And wishes he was still an old pine tree

Poor old Kaw-Liga

He never got a kiss

Poor old Kaw-Liga

He don't know what he missed

Is it any wonder

That his face is red?

Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head