Luyện nghe bài hát Kwa- Liga

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

Kaw-liga was a wooden Indian by the door.
He fell in with an Indian maiden over in the antique store.
Kaw-liga just there and never let it show,
So she could never "yes" or "no."

Poor ol' Kaw-liga, he got a kiss.
Poor ol' Kaw-liga, he don't know he missed.
Is it any wonder that his is red?
Kaw-liga, that ol' wooden head.

He wore his Sunday feathers and held a tomahawk.
The maiden wore her beads and braids and hoped day he'd talk.
Kaw-liga, too to ever show a sign,
his heart was made of knotty pine.

Kaw-liga was a lonely Indian, never nowhere.
His heart was set on the Indian maid with the black hair.
Kaw-liga just stood there and let it show,
So she could never "yes" or "no."

And then one day a wealthy bought the Indian maid,
And took her, oh, so far away, but ol' stayed.
Kaw-liga just stands there as as can be,
And wishes he was an old pine tree.