(Hank Williams - Fred Rose)

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 knoty 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 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

Poor ol' Kaw-Liga...

Kaw-Liga that poor ol' wooden head