Kaw Liga

Kaw-liga was a wooden Indian standing by the door He fell in love with an Indian maiden over in the antique store Kaw-liga just stood there and never let it show So she could never answer "yes" or "no." Poor ol' Kaw-liga, he never got a kiss Poor ol' Kaw-liga, he don't know what he missed Is it any wonder that his face is red? Kaw-liga, that poor ol' wooden head He always wore his Sunday feathers and held a tomahawk The maiden wore her beads and braids and hoped some day he'd talk Kaw-liga, too stubborn to ever show a sign Because his heart was made of knotty pine Kaw-liga was a lonely Indian, never went nowhere His heart was set on the Indian maid with the coal black hair Kaw-liga just stood there and never let it show So she could never answer "yes" or "no." And then one day a wealthy customer bought the Indian maid And took her, oh, so far away, but ol' Kaw-liga stayed Kaw-liga just stands there as lonely as can be And wishes he was still an old pine tree