Kaw-Liga

Kaw-Liga was a lonely Indian, standin' by the door He fell in love with an Indian maid, o'er in the antique store Kaw-Liga. Just standin' there, and he never made a sign Because his heart was made of knoty pine 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 Kaw-Liga was a lonely Indian, never went nowhere He fell in love with an Indian maid with the coal-black hair Kaw-Liga. Just standin' there, as lonely as can be Because his heart was made from a knoty 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 Kaw-Liga wore his Sunday feathers, and held his tomahawk The maiden wore her beads and braids and hoped someday he'd talk Kaw-Liga. Just standin' 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 But one day, a wealthy customer bought the Indian maid And took her oh-so far away, but ol' Kaw-Liga stayed Kaw-Liga. Just standin' there, and he 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 old wooden head