Popular local figure and Manksman through and through, John ’Dog’ Callister was recently raised to the chair of the Manx Bard. Each month he shares one of his poems with us, and explains what led him to write it.

I had a fuel-assisted fall that has even been talked about on Manks Radio, which I have put to verse.

The back ground to the poem is that I have marshalled since 1969, and have been stationed at Ballaugh Bridge for a fair while.

Over the years I have met and become friends with scores of TT fans, including a number of Germans.

They have become lifelong friends and my wife and I have been away to stay with them in their village, from where we have been taken on a number of sight seeing tours around their area.

It borders the Black Forest and there fore there are many places of interest with wonderful views and museums, including Cuckoo Clocks and ancient farm building all now sited in the one area.

We have also visited Sweden at the request of a fantastic character called ’Esso’ Gunnarsson, who unfortunately is no longer with us.

’Esso’ was a racer and in later life became a photographer. He told wonderful stories and took us to many places.

When I was introduced to his friends in Sweden, he told them we were from the Isle of Mann every one of them had either been or wanted to come here such was the high regard they had for the island and the TT.

The poem tells the basic story of a night that I spent in the company of some German visitors who were generous with their hospitality.

TT Week Crash

I had a crash in TT Week, but I wasn’t on my bike!

I’d visited my German friends, they asked me would I like,

To try some of their nice Pear Shnapps, they called it ’rocket fuel’.

They told me that you ’down the hatch’, it is their golden rule!

First though I tried some whiskey, the label said ’Jim Beam’

Then they got the ’Willy’ out, William Pears is what they mean!

Then I had some made with plums, it’s tasted just the same.

Especially when you ’down the hatch’, to them it’s just a game!

It was in a little whiskey glass, not much in there you’d think!

So ’down the hatch’ was not too hard, and that’s the way they drink!

I’m sure I didn’t have a lot, at most just three or four!

They tried to give me other stuff, I told them no more!

Then I gave them my goodbyes and headed up the street,

The Mitre was my destination, I’d other friends to meet.

I only had just one pint, I knew then I’d had my fill!

I said to all I’m on my way, and headed down the hill!

I was going gaily and my finish was in view!

Whilst rounding Station Road corner, I had a little slew!

I mounted the facing pavement, not going to well at all,

Before I could do anything, I crashed into the wall.

I got up quickly to my feet, I knew that there was blood,

Getting myself together, I continued best I could!

Arriving at my welcoming home, I knew I’d get some stick,

Winnie told me sit down there I’ll get some plasters quick.

There is a video I have seen taken on that fateful night,

Showing me explaining all about my sorry plight.

The reason was quite simple, I’ll say it once again!

The answer is I have got as many feet on me as a hen!

I have a cut upon my head, it’s just a little bash,

And regularly I’ll be reminded of my little TT crash

The moral of the story is don’t break the golden rule,

And to listen to a German when he says it’s ’Rocket Fuel’

by John ’Dog’ Callister

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