Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian standin' by the door He fell in love with an Indian maiden over in the antique store Kaw-Liga well he just stood there and never let it show So she could never answer yes or no Poor ol' Kaw-Liga well 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 someday he'd talk Kaw-Liga well he stood there as lonely as can be Cause his heart was an ol' pine knoty tree Poor ol' Kaw-Liga...
And then one day a wealthy customer bought the Indian maid He took her oh so far away but ol' Kaw-Liga stayed Well he stood there and never let it show so she could never answer yes or no Poor ol' Kaw-Liga...