nd fret Kawliga, was a wooden Indian standing by the door He fell in love with an Indian maid over in the antique store Kawliga 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 Kawliga, too stubborn to ever show a sign Because his heart was made of knotty pine Poor ol' kawliga, he never got a kiss Poor ol' Kawliga, he don't know what he missed Is it any wonder that his face is red Kawliga, that poor ol' wooden head Kawliga, was a lonely Indian never went nowhere His heart was set on the Indian maiden with the coal black hair Kaliga, just stood there and never let it show So she could never answer yes or no Then one day a wealthy customer bought the Indian maid And took her, oh, so far away, but ol' Kawliga stayed Kawliga just stands there as lonely as can be And wishes he was still an old pine tree Chorus