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Kaw-Liga
by Hank Williams and Frank Rose

"Hank stayed at a fishing lodge in South Alabama called lake Kowaliga. The name struck 'Pappy' as a good Indian name and also as a good title for a song."
óWesley Rose

Kaw-Liga

Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian standing by the door
He fell in love with an Indian maiden 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 read?
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 some day he'd talk
Kaw-Liga, too stubborn to even show a sign
Because his heart was made of knotty pine.

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 ol' Kaw-Liga stayed.
Kaw-liga just stands there as lonely as can be
And wished he was still an old pine tree.


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