"They ain't a cloud an' the moon has got a smile on her face.

Come, my young David.
Here's the breeches an' the purty stockin's an' shoes, an' the lily white shirt.

Slip 'em on an' we'll kneel down an' have a word o' prayer.

This 'ere ain't no common fight.

It's a battle with tyranny.
It's like the fight o' David an' Goliar.