Il testo della Kaw-liga

Kaw-liga was a wooden indian standin' 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

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

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

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