Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian standin' by the door

He fell in love with an Indian maiden over in the antique store

Kaw-Liga well he just stood there and never let it show

So she could never answer yes or no

Poor ol' Kaw-Liga well 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



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 well he stood there as lonely as can be

Cause his heart was an ol' pine knoty tree

Poor ol' Kaw-Liga...



And then one day a wealthy customer bought the Indian maid

He took her oh so far away but ol' Kaw-Liga stayed

Well he stood there and never let it show so she could never answer yes or no

Poor ol' Kaw-Liga...