So they have this wooden Indian head that reminds me of an old Hank Williams song about a wooden Indian in a general store about this one, it's actually a tragic story of the love that got away from Kaw-Liga who was a wooden Indian, standin' by the door
He fell in love with an indian maid, over in the antique store
He 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, ooh
To stubborn to ever show a sign
Because his heart is 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 old wooden head
Kaw-Liga was a lonely Indian, never went nowhere
His heart was set on the Chocktaw maid with the coal-black hair
Kaw-Liga, ooh
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, ooh
Just stands there, as lonely as can be
And wishes he were still an ol' 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, you poor, ol' wooden head.
And that's the entire story of a sad wooden Indian that's similar to the one here.
The gentleman working at the time was apologetic they didn't have any fried chicken, but he gave me a business card showing the times they have fresh food. Cool guy, really. read more