Hank Williams — Kaw-Liga

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 is made of knotty pine Poor old Kaw-Liga, he never got a kiss Poor old 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 Kaw-Liga was a lonely Indian, never went nowhere His heart was set on the Indian maiden 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 old Kaw-Liga stayed Kaw-Liga just stands there as lonely as can be And wishes he was still an old pine tree Poor old Kaw-Liga, he never got a kiss Poor old 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