When I took my time machine back to the Old West,
I spilled a beer on Doc Holliday's new vest,
Now, he didn't say too much,
But, his bullet was hot to touch, "Call for a doctor", was my next request.
My time machine will machine no more, So, I can't the future or the past explore, I am stuck in the present, Like a time travel peasant, Such a mundane existence, I deplore.
Mr. Pib owned a broken time machine, Only into the future it found it’s scene, Pib could not go back in time, So, he aged from his prime, Pib got revenge with a crowbar and ball-peen.