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 someday 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