Kaw-Liga

Kaw-Liga was a lonely Indian, standin' by the door
He fell in love with an Indian maid, o'er in the antique store
Kaw-Liga.
Just standin' there, and he never made 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
He fell in love with an Indian maid with the coal-black hair
Kaw-Liga.
Just standin' there, as lonely as can be
Because his heart was made from a knoty 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

Kaw-Liga wore his Sunday feathers, and held his tomahawk
The maiden wore her beads and braids and hoped someday he'd talk
Kaw-Liga.
Just standin' there, and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no

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

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

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 old wooden head



Credits
Writer(s): Fred Rose, Hank Williams Sr.
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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