(Hank Williams - Fred Rose)

Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian standin' by the door
He fell in love with an Indian maiden over in the antique store
Kaw-Liga, well, he just stood there and never let it show
So 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.

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
Well, he stood there and never let it show
So 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...