Tonalité : A minor
Verse 1
Am
A
Am
A
Am
Collagia, Collagia
Collagia was a wooden Indian
standing by the door
He fell in love with an Indian maiden
over in the antique store
Collagia
E
Just stood there and never let it show
Am
So she could never answer yes or no
A
Poor old Colliger, he never got a kiss
D
Poor old Colliger,
he don't know what he missed
A
E
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
A
E
Colliger,
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Am
A
that poor old wooden head
Am
A
Am
Colliger, Colliger
He always wore his Sunday feathers
and held a tomahawk
The maiden wore her beads and braids
and hoped someday he'd talk
Collagia
E
Too stubborn to ever show a sign
Am
Because his heart was made of knotty pine
A
Poor old Collagia,
he never got a kiss
D
Poor old Collagia,
he don't know what he missed
A
Is it any wonder that his face is
E
A
E
A
Am
A
red?
Am
Bb
Bbm
And then one day a
Bb
Bbm
wealthy customer
bought the Indian maid
And took her oh so far away,
but old Kalija stayed Kalija
F
Just stands there as lonely as can be
Bbm
And wishes he was still an old pine tree
Bb
Poor old Kaleidza,
he never got a kiss
Eb
Poor old Kaleidza,
he don't know what he missed
Bb
Is it any wonder that his
F
face is red?
Bb
F
Kaleidza, that poor old wooden head
Bb
Collider, Collider,
Bbm
Bb
Collider,
Collider,
Collider
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