Kaw-Liga

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