Kaw-Liga (Live)

Poor ol' kaw-liga, you ain't never got a kiss Poor ol' kaw-liga, you don't know what you miss Is it any wonder, that his face is red? Kaw-liga, that poor old wooden head Kaw-liga was a wooden indian Standing over 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 Too stubborn to ever show a sign Because his heart is made of knotty pine 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 injun maid And took her, oh, so far away But old kaw-liga stayed Standin' there, as lonesome as can be Just wishing he were still an old pine tree Poor ol' kaw-liga, you ain't never got a kiss Poor ol' kaw-liga, you don't know what you miss Is it any wonder, that his face is red? Kaw-liga, that poor old wooden head Poor ol' kaw-liga, you ain't never got a kiss Poor ol' kaw-liga, you don't know what you miss Is it any wonder, that his face is red? Kaw-liga, that poor old wooden head Kaw-liga, that poor old wooden head Kaw-liga, that poor old wooden head Kaw-liga, that poor old wooden head Kaw-liga, that poor old wooden head Kaw-liga, that poor old wooden head Kaw-liga, that poor old wooden head Kaw-liga, that poor old wooden head Kaw-liga, that poor old wooden head