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 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