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." —Wesley 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.