Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian standin' by the door.
He fell in love with the Indian maiden
Over in the antique store.
Kaw-Liga, too stubborn to ever 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, 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 there 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 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 Indian maid
And took her oh so far away, but ole Kaw-Liga stayed.
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 there any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-Liga, that poor ol' wooden head...