Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian standing by the door He fell in love with an Indian maid over an antique store Kaw-Liga, yoho He just stood there and never let it show So she could never answer "Yes" or "No" 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 He always wore his Sunday feathers and held a tomahawk The maiden wore her beads and braids and hoped some day he'd talk Kaw-Liga, yoho He stood there as lonely as can be And wishing 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 And then one day, a wealthy customer bought the Indian maid He took her, oh, so far away, and ol' Kaw-Liga stayed Kaw-Liga, yoho He just stood there and never let it show So she could never answer "Yes" or "No" 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