My railgun is hard and ready for fun,
the barrel is hot and long and the capacitors are done.
Whining and moaning and straining at the rails,
we undress before the shrouding as modesty fails.

A touch on the trigger, a shuddering, tantalizing moan,
hard and hot and accurate, magnetic poles will groan,
Lorentz is kind and willing the projectile always comes,
as I do, my lasers primed and ready in my superheated guns.