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 just stood there and never let it show So she couldn't never answer "Yes" or "No"
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, too stubborn to ever show a sign Because his heart was made of knotty 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 His heart was set on the Indian maid with the coal black hair Kaw-Liga just stood there and never let it show So she couldn't never answer "Yes" or "No"
And then one day, a wealthy customer bought the Indian maid And took her, oh, so far away, but ol' Kaw-Liga stayed Kaw-Liga just stands there as lonely as can be And wishes 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
"1953"