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