Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian, standin' by the door
He fell in love with and 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 some day he'd talk
[Kaw-Liga]... to stubborn to never show a sign
'Cause his heart was made of knotty pine

Poor old Kaw-Liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old 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 no where
His heart was set on the Indian maid with the the coal black hair
Kaw-Liga stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no

Then one day a wealthy customer bought the Indian maid
And took her oh so very far away
Kaw-Liga stands there just as lonely as can be
And wishes he was still an old pine tree

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