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Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian standin' by the door |
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He fell in love with an Indian maiden over in the antique store |
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Kaw-Liga well he just stood there and never let it show |
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So she could never answer yes or no |
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Poor ol' Kaw-Liga well he never got a kiss |
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Poor ol' Kaw-Liga he don't know what he missed |
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Is it any wonder that his face is red Kaw-Liga that poor ol' wooden head |
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He always wore his Sunday feathers and held a tomahawk |
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The maiden wore her beads and braids and hoped someday he'd talk |
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Kaw-Liga well he stood there as lonely as can be |
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Cause his heart was an ol' pine knoty tree |
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Poor ol' Kaw-Liga... |
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And then one day a wealthy customer bought the Indian maid |
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He took her oh so far away but ol' Kaw-Liga stayed |
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Well he stood there and never let it show so she could never answer yes or no |
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Poor ol' Kaw-Liga... |