Manus he fixed up rooftops, it’s what he knew how to do
When he got his daily pay he’d buy a shortbread batch or two
Born and raised in Scotland, a man of words so few
With his toolbelt tied around his waist he knew he could make do
An extraordinary thing did happen, mysterious in fact
A portal opened up, the walls of space and time had cracked!
It just so happened Manus, he stepped just then right through
Traveled back two thousand years, though he’d no desire to
A man spoke out to Manus, in his ancient crested cloaks
An army marching at his back past towns of common folks
“We’re at war with Castle Red—and Yellow, Green, and Blue—
We fear our crops may not come in, the plague concerns us too…
“There are marauders in the mountains, travelers best beware
The king has fallen ill and he’s yet to name an heir…”
Manus brushed his moustache, a furrowed brow he did possess
With his voice like a stern grumble, the cloaked man he did address
“’ave ya got rooftops ‘ere?” the man said, “Yes, we do”
“…then point me on to where they are, I’ll fix ‘em up fer you”
“Ave ya got shortbread ‘ere?” … The man said, “Yes, we do”
“…then point me on to where it’s sold, I’ll buy a batch er two.”
Manus fixed up rooftops, and ate his favorite food
On and on for years and years and little more ensued
Then a most unwelcome thing, with odds so very low
A second spacetime portal, straight through it Manus did go!
Though he still had no desire to explore these new frontiers
As luck would have it, forward he went –a hundred-thousand years!
A man spoke out to Manus in a shiny metallic vest
With rocket shuttles overhead, zipping from east to west
“The planet’s been struck by comets, we’ve fought off invasions too
I swear to you three times the Earth’s been terraformed anew
“We can teleport anywhere, we’ve seen lots of outer space
With nanotech and physics we’ve advanced the human race!”
Manus furrowed his brow; he met him eye to eye
With his voice like a low grumble to the man he did reply
“’ave ya got rooftops ‘ere?” The man said, “Yes, we do”
“…then point me on to where they are, I’ll fix ‘em up fer you”
“’ave ya got shortbread ‘ere?” The man said, “Sorry, but no…”
Manus stood in thought, his mustache twitching to and fro
The men stood face to face, and neither said a word
Then Manus spoke out once again and with the man conferred
“’ave ya got flour here? Sugar? Butter too?”
The man responded back saying, “Well yes, of course we do”
Manus brushed his whiskers; and his concern appeared to quell
“…then point me on to where they’re sold, and I’ll bidya farewell”
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