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

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 knotted pine

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

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