Collagio, CollagioCollagio was a wooden Indian standing by the doorHe fell in love with an Indian maiden over in the antique storeCollagioJust stood there and never let it showSo she could never answer yes or noHe always wore his son to feathers and he hailed at Tommy HawkThe maiden wore her beads and braids and hoped someday he'd talkCollagioToo stubborn to ever show a signBecause his heart was made of goldNot a pinePoor old Collagio, he never got a kissPoor old Collagio, he don't know what he missedIs there any wonder that his face is redCollagio, that poor old wooden headCollagio was a lonely IndianHe never went to bedNowhereHis heart was set on the Indian maiden with the coal black hairCollagioJust stood there and never let it showSo she could never answer yes or noAnd then one day a wealthy customer bought that Indian maidAnd took her oh so far awayBut don't you know she was a good girlAnd the old Collagio stayedCollagioJust stands there lonely as can beAnd wishes he was still an old pine treePoor old Collagio, he never got a kissPoor old Collagio, he don't know what he missedIs there any wonder that his face is redCollagio, that poor old wooden head