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