Kaw-liga
Hank williams
Kaw-liga was a wooden indian standing by the door
He fell in love with an indian maid over in the antique store
Kaw-liga 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 hed talk
Kaw-liga, too stubborn to ever show a sign
Because his heart was made of knotty pine
Poor old kaw-liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old kaw-liga, he dont 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 indian maid with the coal black hair
Kaw-liga just stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no
Poor old kaw-liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old kaw-liga, he dont know what he missed
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-liga,that poor old wooden head
Then one day a wealthy customer bought the indian maid
And took her oh so far away, but old kaw-liga stayed
Kaw-liga just stands there as lonely as can be
And wishes he was still an old pine tree
Poor old kaw-liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old kaw-liga, he dont know what he missed
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-liga,that poor old wooden head
Kaw-liga, kaw-liga kaw-liga....
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Kaw-liga
Recorded by hank williams
Written by hank williams and fred rose
Key: e capo: 2nd play: d
Kaw- [dm] liga, was a wooden indian standing by the door
He fell in love with an indian maid over in the antique store
Kaw-liga - a, just stood there and never let it [a7] show
So she could never answer yes or [dm] no.
He always wore his sunday feathers and held a tomahawk
The maiden wore her beads and braids and hoped someday hed talk
Kaw-liga - a, too stubborn to ever show a sign
Because his heart was made of knotty pine.
Chorus
[d] poor ol kaw-liga, he never got a kiss
[g] poor ol kaw-liga, he dont know what he missed
[d] is it any wonder that his face is [a7] red
Kaw-liga, that poor ol wooden [d] head. ... [dm]
Kaw-liga, was a lonely indian never went nowhere
His heart was set on the indian maiden with the coal black hair
Kaw-liga - a, just stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no.
Then one day a wealthy customer bought the indian maid
And took her, oh, so far away, but ol kaw-liga stayed
Kaw-liga - a, just stands there as lonely as can be
And wishes he was still an old pine tree.
Chorus
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Greate Freedom
nation flag fly
child cry
hunger
mother chest
no milk
good morning india...?
bad morning for poor indian people...
and poor freedom...
every wear...
not full fill the poor
indian stomach.........
what a great...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Hollywood Holiday
I rode my motorcycle through a watermelon patch
Right on the california freeway
I took my holy Bible on my blessed boogie woogie drive
Cause I know I know I know
Where I go oh lord theyre gonna bless me jive
Poor you poor me
Poor everybody who buy to be
Poor me poor you
Poor everybody who die to do
I parked my motorcycle on hollywood and vine
And sang till my red blood turned boiling blue
I took my sole survival and bore my cross on a string
Cause I know I know I know
What I dear I bear my charm to king
Poor you poor me
Poor everybody who buy to be
Poor me poor you
Poor everybody who die to do
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poor Baby
Orbison/c & r price
Glittery eyes; witchy smiles
A good time is all you are after
Skin tight thighs; little white lies
Put you in the center of the laughter
But your reign of queen is over
Your fortress has been broken down
You're still the center of the laughter
But your role has changed to the clown
Chorus
Ooh poor baby
Someone broke your heart in two
Ooh poor baby
Who would have thought it could happen to you
Poor baby
A pretty face; sweet talkin' ways
Got you a part of the action
A come-over-touch, glances and such
You always had to be the main attraction
Now you're the one who's crying
You lost at your own lonely game
You're still the center of attraction
But now i'm gone, you've got yourself to blame
Chorus
Ooh poor baby
Do what you said you'd never do
Ooh poor baby
You let someone get much too close to you
Poor baby
Poor baby,poor baby
Poor baby,poor baby
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Small Plot Of Land
Poor soul
Spit upon that
Poor soul
He never knew what hit him
And it hit him so
Poor dunce
He pushed back the pigmen
The barbs laughed
The fool is dead
Poor dunce
Hes less than within us
The brains talk
But the will to live is dead
And prayer cant
Travel so far these days
The talk of your life
Standing so near
To innocent eyes
Poor dunce
Swings thru the tunnels
And claws his way
Is small life so manic
Are these really the days
Poor dunce
Poor dunce
Poor soul
Poor soul
Poor soul
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Go For Simplicity My Friend
i go for simplicity my friend
because i am poor
i do not go for sophistication
because i am poor
i do not complicate matters
because i am poor
i do not want you to misunderstand
because i am poor
i do not want you to think some more
because i am poor
i do not want to convince you
because i am poor
i do not want you to be with our side
because we are poor
i want all things in their simplified forms
because we cannot afford
any other form of convolutions
we cannot afford another revolution
it will be expensive
and we have no more years to give
to pay for the sponsors
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If I were dead
'IF I were dead, you'd sometimes say, Poor Child!'
The dear lips quiver'd as they spake,
And the tears brake
From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled.
Poor Child, poor Child!
I seem to hear your laugh, your talk, your song.
It is not true that Love will do no wrong.
Poor Child!
And did you think, when you so cried and smiled,
How I, in lonely nights, should lie awake,
And of those words your full avengers make?
Poor Child, poor Child!
And now, unless it be
That sweet amends thrice told are come to thee,
O God, have Thou no mercy upon me!
Poor Child!
poem by Coventry Patmore
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The Sunken Crown
Nothing will hold him longer—let him go;
Let him go down where others have gone down;
Little he cares whether we smile or frown,
Or if we know, or if we think we know.
The call is on him for his overthrow,
Say we; so let him rise, or let him drown.
Poor fool! He plunges for the sunken crown,
And we—we wait for what the plunge may show.
Well, we are safe enough. Why linger, then?
The watery chance was his, not ours. Poor fool!
Poor truant, poor Narcissus out of school;
Poor jest of Ascalon; poor king of men.—
The crown, if he be wearing it, may cool
His arrogance, and he may sleep again.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Wooden Indian
This song was first released on the poems, prayers and promises album. it is the only album it has been released on.
I, I was a red man
I was proud, I was strong
You were the white man
And you stole away my home
Now I am a wooden indian
Painted dreams inside my head
Times a where you bring me down
And make you wish I was dead
Na na na
I, I was a red man
In my passing made no sound
You were the white man
And you drove me in the ground
Now I am a wooden indian
Standing silent in the rain
Swear with my grandfathers father
Were going to rise again
Na na na
I, I was a red man
I was proud, I was strong
You were the white man
And you stole away my home
Now I am a wooden indian
Standing silent in the rain
Swear with my grandfathers father
Were going to rise again
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poor Little Girl
Poor Little Girl
Nobody cares what she does
She only lives what she was
In her mind reliving thoughts of yesterday
‘til she finds she knows her way she’ll have to play poor little girl
Poor little girl
Why can’t she love what she’s seen
People don’t want her to’ve been
Wasting time and living in her yesterday
‘til she finds she knows her way she’ll have to play poor little girl
Poor little girl
Her heart will shoulder
Who she’s intended to be
She may never know her
Until she has set herself free
Harboring the darkest nights of yesterday
So until she finds her way she’ll have to play poor little girl
Poor little girl
She’s so important to me
I admit I use to be
Runnin’ never knowin’ of my destiny
Blessings in disguise today that end that play
Poor little girl,
Poor little girl
Poor little girl
Little girl’s me
Copyright 1969, Will Fiala
poem by Will Fiala
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A Man With Money
She wants a man with lots of money,
not a poor boy,
He buys her things she calls him honey,
she calls me poor boy,
What good could it do,
to give a love pure and true,
when any fool could understand,
she thinks that money makes the man,
She wants a man with lots of money,
not a poor boy,
She wants the things she'll buy with money,
not a poor boy,
a man with money,man with money,man with money,
Just down thwe street,
I know a place
When there asleep,
I'll cover my face,
I'll break the lock,open the door,
I'll slip inside, I'll rob the store,
Then I'll be a man with lots of money,
not a poor boy,
I'll buy her things, she'll call me honey,
not a poor boy,
A man with money, man with money, man with money, man with money
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Great Grandma
Great Grandma married Great Grandpa
poor Irish girl and poor Indian man
Great Grandma
used to get beat by Great Grandpa's mom
Great Great Grandma
because Great Great Grandma only spoke an Indian
language and not English.
She got hit by a train.
Lots of us Indians got hit by trains in one way
or another, but this was
literal and not metaphor.
poem by Smack Thompson
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Poor Me
Woke up this mornin'
feeling low
where my love one used to live
she ain't there no more.
Poor me, why such bad luck fall on me?
Poor me, I'm livin' in misery
What I gonna do?
Hard to tell
Lord, I'm not going to kill myself
but I might as well
Poor me, I'm so lonely can't you see?
Poor me, I'm livin' in misery.
All I do
the whole day long
fall down on my knees and pray
you'll come back home.
Poor me, why such bad luck fall on me?
Poor me, I'm livin' in misery.
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Almost all the noblest things that have been achieved in the world, have been achieved by poor men; poor scholars, poor professional men, poor artisans and artists, poor philosophers, poets, and men of genius.
quote by Albert Pike
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lay of Poor Louise
Ah, poor Louise! the livelong day
She roams from cot to castle gay;
And still her voice and viol say,
Ah, maids, beware the woodland way,
Think on Louise.
Ah, poor Louise! The sun was high,
It smirch'd her cheek, it dimm'd her eye,
The woodland walk was cool and nigh,
Where birds with chiming streamlets vie
To cheer Louise.
Ah, poor Louise! The savage bear
Made ne'er that lovely grove his lair;
The wolves molest not paths so fair-
But better far had such been there
For poor Louise.
Ah, poor Louise! In woody wold
She met a huntsman fair and bold;
His baldric was of silk and gold,
And many a witching tale he told
To poor Louise.
Ah, poor Louise! Small cause to pine
Hadst thou for treasures of the mine;
For peace of mind that gift divine,
And spotless innocence, were thine,
Ah, poor Louise!
Ah, poor Louise! Thy treasure's reft!
I know not if by force or theft,
Or part by violence, part by gift;
But misery is all that's left
To poor Louise.
Let poor Louise some succour have!
She will not long your bounty crave,
Or tire the gay with warning stave-
For Heaven has grace, and earth a grave,
Poor poor Louise.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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One Might Laugh At This
One might laugh at this but it is not a joke
He thinks the 'Indian Myna' is about Indian Culture one must feel for the poor bloke
He does not know that the myna is a bird born with wings for to fly
That ignorance is bliss to him has to apply
His right to his opinions him none should deny
But why he comments on others one has to wonder why
Since he hasn't a clue what he's talking about
Of his lack of knowledge he doesn't leave one in doubt
Why he should think that an indian myna should have anything to do with Indian Culture seems perplexing to me
As knowledge goes he is one in poverty
I do honestly feel he should call it a day
By that I mean give writing comments away
He does show his ignorance by the comments he write
And his type not an asset to any poetry web site.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Braggart
someday i will be poor.
it will happen, someday i will be very poor.
and you will be rich, and happy and proud
and influential and famous
and be in the cover of Forbes Magazine
perhaps Times
for your exemplary charity
or Asia week for your nobility
and humanitarian projects
perhaps the Pope will make you Saint Marjorie
someday i will be poor, in fact, poor as the poorest rat,
but i know
i will still, and cannot still love you real.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A true Of universal
Some budy
Told
I am india...N...
S ome budy told...
Some time i am indian...
On school
Prayer time time told
I am indian...
But...
I did not feel
Indian...
India is
my birth place
ok...
But...
I am not a indian...
Why...?
I am...
I did not write hindhi...
I am Live in tamil nadu state
My mother also speak in tamil...
Sourindings peopls all are
Speak tamil...
So...
I am not a indian...
It is very poor word for me...
I am tamilan...
It is ok...
For me...
But...
This think also
Not good...
I am a one of world city zen...
That always unversel true...
Thats i want...
Thats i love and like...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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New York Times
New york poor new york
New york poor new york
Cars choking your child to death
But you dont wanna see
Cause you only think about yourself
How blind can you be
New york poor new york
Sniper on the rooftop new york
New york poor new york
Not fit for a dog in new york
Everybody bites on the big apple
Leave the hungry in tears
But no one gives a damn no one really cares
How they feel theyre just paper people not real
You need a gun to walk into new york
Now youre broke and youre out on a ledge
Who can help you this time
Now youre down to your very last cent
Still youre askin me who was your friend
I was your friend
New york poor new york
Who turned the lights out in new york
New york poor new york
Just another blackout in new york
Girl dead on the 26th floor
But no one knew her name
Found her body behind the door
Too young for the game
New york poor new york
Devils in the subway new york
New york poor new york
New york poor new york
Talkin talkin talkin - watch out
Harlem touching midtown new york
New york poor new york
Talkin bout new york new york
Moneys getting tighter new york
Theyre burning the bridges to new york
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He and She
[HE.] I know a youth who loves a little maid -
(Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!)
Silent is he, for he's modest and afraid -
(Hey, but he's timid as a youth can be!)
[SHE.] I know a maid who loves a gallant youth -
(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)
SHE cannot tell him all the sad, sad truth -
(Hey, but I think that little maid will die!)
[BOTH.] Now tell me pray, and tell me true,
What in the world should the poor soul do?
[HE.] He cannot eat and he cannot sleep -
(Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!)
Daily he goes for to wail - for to weep -
(Hey, but he's wretched as a youth can be!)
[SHE.] She's very thin and she's very pale -
(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)
Daily she goes for to weep - for to wail -
(Hey, but I think that little maid will die!)
[BOTH.] Now tell me pray, and tell me true,
What in the world should the poor soul do?
[SHE.] If I were the youth I should offer her my name -
(Hey, but her face is a sight for to see!)
[HE.] If I were the maid I should fan his honest flame -
(Hey, but he's bashful as a youth can be!)
[SHE.] If I were the youth I should speak to her to-day -
(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!)
[HE.] If I were the maid I should meet the lad half way -
(For I really do believe that timid youth will die!)
[BOTH.] I thank you much for your counsel true;
I've learnt what that poor soul ought to do!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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