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 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
