Tom: A major•
Intro 1
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Verse 1
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Colliger, Colliger
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Colliger was a wooden Indian
standing by the door
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He fell in love with an Indian maiden
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over in the antique store
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Colliger, Colliger
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Just stood there and never let it show
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So she could never answer yes or no
He never got a kiss
He don't know what he missed
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Oh, is it any wonder that
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Colliger, that poor old wooden head
Always wore his Sunday feathers
and held a Tommy Hawk
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The maiden wore her beads and braids
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and hoped someday he'd talk
Colliger, Colliger
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Too stubborn to ever show a sigh
Because his heart was
made of naughty pie
he never got a kiss
he don't know what he missed
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Oh, is it any wonder that his face is red
Colliger, that poor old one
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Then one day a
wealthy customer
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bought that Indian maid
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And took her, so far away
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Just stands there as lonely as can be
And wishes he was still an old pine tree
He never got a kiss
He don't know what he missed
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Oh, is it any wonder that
Colliger, that poor old wooden
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head
Oh, Colliger,
Colliger, Colliger
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