poor ol' kaw-liga, you ain't got a kiss poor ol' kaw-liga, you don't know what you is it any wonder, his face is red?
kaw-liga, that old wooden head
was a wooden indian standing over by the he fell in love with an indian over in the antique
just stood there and never let it so she could never "yes" or "no"
he always his sunday feathers and held a the wore her beads and braids and hoped he'd talk
too stubborn to show a sign because his is made of knotty pine
was a lonely indian never nowhere his heart was set on the maiden the coal black hair
just there and never let it show so she never answer "yes" or "no"
and then one day, a customer the injun maid and her, oh, so far away but old stayed
there, as lonesome as can be just wishing he were still an old pine
poor ol' kaw-liga, you ain't got a kiss ol' kaw-liga, you don't know what you miss is it any wonder, that his is red? kaw-liga, poor old wooden head
poor ol' kaw-liga, you ain't never got a poor ol' kaw-liga, you don't know what you is it any wonder, that his is red? kaw-liga, that poor old head
kaw-liga, poor old wooden head kaw-liga, that poor old head kaw-liga, that old wooden head kaw-liga, poor old wooden head kaw-liga, poor old wooden head kaw-liga, that poor old wooden kaw-liga, poor old wooden head kaw-liga, poor old wooden head