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Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian standing by the doorHe fell in love with an Indian maiden over in the antique storeKaw-Liga just stood there and never let it showSo she could never answer yes or noHe always wore his Sunday feathers and held a tomahawkThe maiden wore her beads and braids and hoped someday he'd talkedKaw-Liga too stubborn to ever show a signBecause his heart was made of knotty pinePoor old Kaw-Liga, he never got a kissPoor old Kaw-Liga, he don't know what he missedIs it any wonder that his face is red?Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden headKaw-Liga was a lonely Indian,never went nowhereHis heart was set on the Indian maiden with the coal black hairKaw-Liga just stood there and never let it showSo she could never answer yes or nowAnd then one day a wealthy customer bought the Indian maidAnd took oh so far away but old Kaw-Liga stayedKaw-Liga just stands there as lonely as can beAnd wishes he was still an old pine treePoor old Kaw-Liga, he never got a kissPoor old Kaw-Liga, he don't know what he missedIs it any wonder that his face is red?Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head From Letras Mania