Glad you were the wooden Indian standing by the door
He fell in love with an Indian maid over in the antique store
Glad you were the wooden Indian standing by the door
He fell in love with an Indian maid over in the antique store
Kaw-Liga
Glad you were the 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 told a soul
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 someday he′d talk
Kaw-Liga
Too stubborn to ever show a sign
Because his heart was made of knotty 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
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 told a soul
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
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
