Thanksgiving 2024
Kaw-Liga
by Hank Williams and Fred Rose
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 was made of knotty 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
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”.
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
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.