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...yo..ho
He stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no
Poor old Kaw-liga..he never had 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
He always wore his Sunday feathers and held a tommyhawk..Hawk
The maiden wore her beads and braids
And hoped someday he'd call
Kaw-ligaaaaaa...yo ho
He just stood there as lonely as could be
And wished that he was still an old pine tree
And then one day a wealthy customer bought the Indian maid
He took her oh so far away
But old Kaw-liga stayed
Kaw-ligaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa yo ho
He stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no
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

©