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