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Whan he opened the buik, I saw him slip something oot atween the leaves o' 't, and crunkle 't up in 's han', luikin his greediest. Syne he read the twenty-third and fourt psalms. I cudna help watchin' him, and whan we gaed down upo' oor k-nees, I luikit roon efter him, and saw him pit something intil's breek-pooch. Weel, it stack to me. What say ye to that, Robert Bruce?"
We keept the twa boats closs for company, and crap in nearer hand. Grandfaither had a gless, for he had been a sailor, and the captain of a smack, and had lost her on the sands of Tay. And when we took the gless to it, sure eneuch there was a man. He was in a crunkle o' green brae, a wee below the chaipel, a' by his lee lane, and lowped and flang and danced like a daft quean at a waddin'.
Of course Woot and the Tin Woodman now listened, because they could not do otherwise unless they rudely ran away from their stuffed comrade. One of the Scarecrow's recitations was like this: "What sound is so sweet As the straw from the wheat When it crunkles so tender and low? It is yellow and bright, So it gives me delight To crunkle wherever I go. "Sweet, fresh, golden Straw!
He was in a crunkle o' green brae, a wee below the chaipel, a' by his lee lane, and lowped and flang and danced like a daft quean at a waddin'. "It's Tod," says grandfather, and passed the gless to Sandie. "Ay, it's him," says Sandie. "Or ane in the likeness o' him," says grandfaither. "Sma' is the differ," quo' Sandie.
"My complexion had become a bit grey and faded, you know, and the paint had peeled off one end of my mouth, so I couldn't talk quite straight. Now I feel like myself again, and I may say without immodesty that my body is stuffed with the loveliest oat-straw in all Oz." He pushed against his chest. "Hear me crunkle?" he asked. "Yes," said Dorothy; "you sound fine."
Of course Woot and the Tin Woodman now listened, because they could not do otherwise unless they rudely ran away from their stuffed comrade. One of the Scarecrow's recitations was like this: "What sound is so sweet As the straw from the wheat When it crunkles so tender and low? It is yellow and bright, So it gives me delight To crunkle wherever I go. "Sweet, fresh, golden Straw!
He was in a crunkle o' green brae, a wee below the chaipel, a' by his lee-lane, and lowped and flang and danced like a daft quean at a waddin'. "It's Tod," says grandfaither, and passed the gless to Sandie. "Ay, it's him," says Sandie. "Or ane in the likeness o' him," says grandfaither. "Sma' is the differ," quo' Sandie.
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