I am the smith. I feed my melt-pot
Fashion carbon steely blades
While coulter and the mouldboard stab
And break the clod in forest glades
In sultry peace and blood-raised anger
I hammer out my forging trade

Lockheed, Fokker, Curtis, Hawker
Avro, Gloster, Handley Page
Colt, Beretta, Walther, Mauser
Springfield, Ruger in a rage
Holland, Holland, Boss and Purdey
Woodward, Greener: golden age

Every atom of the arsenal forged
In distant dying sun
In unholy Trinity now lends new
Form to plough and gun
Harry S. and Oppenheimer, Fermi
Teller, what have you done?
And did they pray that He may guide
Us in His ways, now battle's won?