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