"Can't you see he's rusted, just as you were once?" asked Polychrome,
laughing again. "Here, Nick Chopper, lend me your oil-can a minute!"
The Tin Woodman silently handed her his oil-can, without which he never
traveled, and Polychrome first oiled the stranger's tin jaws and then
worked them gently to and fro until the Tin Soldier said:
"That's enough. Thank you. I can now talk. But please oil my other
joints."
Woot seized the oil-can and did this, but all the others helped wiggle
the soldier's joints as soon as they were oiled, until they moved
freely.
The Tin Soldier seemed highly pleased at his release. He strutted up
and down the path, saying in a high, thin voice:
"The Soldier is a splendid man
When marching on parade,
And when he meets the enemy
He never is afraid.
He rights the wrongs of nations,
His country's flag defends,
The foe he'll fight with great delight,
But seldom fights his friends."