Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian
A-standing by the door
He fell in love with an Indian maiden
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 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 maiden
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 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.
