Hringfer um landi (3 hluti)

sbyrgi jl 2007

(ATH: san er hnnu fyrir

19" skji ea strri)

Hr hef g aldrei komi ur, en tla a koma hverju sumri eftir etta, yyyyyyndislegur staur, og endalaust hgt a gera eitthva ea skoa.

 

 

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Texti sulags:

 

Charley Pride

Kaw-liga


Kaw-Liga, the wooden Indian standin' by the door
He fell in love with an Indian maid over in the antique store
Kaw-Liga, well, he just stood there and never let it show
Aww, she could never answer yes or no

Poor ol' Kaw-Liga well 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

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, well, he stood there as lonely as can be
Cause his heart was an ol' pine knoty tree, tree, tree

Poor ol' Kaw-Liga well 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

And then one day a wealthy customer bought the Indian maid
He took her, oh, so far away but ol' Kaw-Liga stayed
Kaw-Liga, well he stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no, no, no, no

Poor ol' Kaw-Liga well 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

 

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