Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian, standing by the door He fell in love with an Indian maid 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 to stubborn to ever show a sign Because his heart was made of knotty pine Poor old' Kaw-Liga, he never got a kiss Poor old' Kaw-Liga, he don't know what he missed Is it any wonder that his face is red Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head Kaw-Liga was a lonely Indian, never went nowhere His heart was set on the Indian maiden 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 old' Kaw-Liga stayed Kaw-Liga just stands there as lonely as can be And wishes he was still an old pine tree