Kawliga Poem by Marilyn Lott

Poor Kawliga was made of wood
In love with a girl across the way
But he couldn’t do anything about it
For at the door he had to stay

But he kept it to himself
His love for the Indian maid
He in beads and feathers
She in beads and braids

Never did he get a kiss
Spent his life like a stone
For in front of the cigar store
Was Kawliga’s permanent home

Lonely was his fate in life
And too stubborn to show a sign
That he loved his Indian maiden
For his heart was of knotty pine

It’s a sad tale of woe, don’t ya think?
The story of Kawligia and his girl
Spent their lives in limbo
And never gave romance a whirl!