Over the past few months, we have invited some of the previous Manx Bards to share a poem or two with us.

This week, we have a new poem from popular local figure and craftsman John ’Dog’ Callister, who was named as the third Manx Bard in 2016.

Here is a poem from the legendary ’Dog’, the well-known Manx personality and raconteur, written about an age-old custom from the fishing days on the Isle of Man, where either the skipper of the herring trawler or the admiral of the fleet would judge the best time to cast their nets.

Nets were thrown at night time, and the skipper would stand in the boat with his arms outstretched and his thumbs up.

When the night grew so dark they could barely see their thumbnail, then he would give the order to cast.

’The old herring fishermen used to look at the half ’Moon’ on their thumb nail, which is lighter in colour to the rest of the nail,’ said John.

’The premise of the poem is that "Tommy" had much lighter "moons", and so would cast his nets slightly later than the others.

’For some unknown reason this would give him an advantage by doing so. I thought it sounded like a good tale.’

John ’Dog’ was the first of the Manx Bards to regularly share a poem of his in the pages of Island Life.

After relinquishing his robes and the bardic chair to his successor, Sara Goodwins, John carried on writing and, last year, took home the Manx Litfest Poetry Slam prize.

The current Manx Bard, Zoe Cannell, will return to her regular monthly column in February. Zoe was raised to the chair of the Manx Bard in August 2019 and was asked to stay on in the position throughout 2020, because of the uncertainty of the lockdown at the time.

l Making a return in this week’s Island Life is the popular ’20 Second Poem’.

During last year’s lockdown, some of the Manx Bards wrote a short poem that should take no more than 20 seconds to recite, about the same time as it should take to wash your hands properly.

You can find the first poem, written by Sara Goodwins, who first thought up the idea, on page 16.

TOMMY WHITE THUMB

Tommy White Thumb was what we all called him,

But he was a Moore from Glen Maye.

The wonders he done on the fishin’,

Wass always the talk of the day!

Thee say the half moon on yer thumb nail,

tells yer when to cast out yer net

But Tommy wass much later than others

My lawse what a catch he would get!

When yer can’t see the moon on yer thumb nail,

Iss juss dark enough to cast out.

If yer thrownin’ the net out too early,

Yer not goin’ to be in with a shout!

Tommy always chose somewhere diff’rent.

His fishin’ marks no one else knew.

Like the giant’s fingers at Knock Sharry.

Or Corrin’s Tower atop of the broogh.

The Herrin’ are there, they need catchin’

’Tween sayin’ an’ doin’ there is much!

But when we got back in the harbour

In Tommy’s boat was always a skutch!

Tommy always had the bare crew,

Juss a few drollanes from the South.

There was only a lad yon’ Tommy had

An’ by deng he had a big mouth!

A galoot to he wass, always lyin’ in pubs

If Tommy wass fishin’ he wass home.

There was no room for him in the boat,

’Cos the toot would prob’ly juss moan.

No one would get Tommy’s secrets at all,

The youngster would probably tell!

Tommy set off each day with no son,

But he’d bring herrin’ galore back to sell.

Out alone one day Tommy never came back’

When he was missed they were all back in port!

There’d been a big swell, some men had gibbed

But Tommy never gave it a thought,

Thee never found out what had happened

He juss disappeared under the waves.

Tommy White Thumb had fished the last time

An his marks went with him to the grave.