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Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian, standin' by the door He fell in love with an indian maid, over in the antique store Kaw-Liga, ooh 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 Kaw-Liga, ooh To stubborn to ever show a sign Because his heart is 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 old wooden head Kaw-Liga was a lonely Indian, never went nowhere His heart was set on the Chocktaw maid with the coal-black hair Kaw-Liga, ooh 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 Indian maid And took her oh-so far away but ol' Kaw-Liga stayed Kaw-Liga, ooh Just stands there, as lonely as can be And wishes he were still an ol' 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, you poor, ol' wooden head
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