Lletres: Charley Pride. Kaw-Liga.

Kaw-Liga, the wooden Indian standin' by the door
He fell in love with an Indian maid over in the antique store
Kaw-Liga, well, he just stood there and never let it show
Aww, she could never answer yes or no

Poor ol' Kaw-Liga well 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, well, he stood there as lonely as can be
Cause his heart was an ol' pine knoty tree, tree, tree

Poor ol' Kaw-Liga well 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

And then one day a wealthy customer bought the Indian maid
He took her, oh, so far away but ol' Kaw-Liga stayed
Kaw-Liga, well he stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no, no, no, no

Poor ol' Kaw-Liga well 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