In the days of my youth, I intertwined the tales of my maternal grandfather, a stranger to me, with the yarn spun by my uncle Martin about a Limerick man named Shawn-a-Scoob. This tale, also commemorated in verse by the local poet Michael Hogan, the Bard of Thomond, had its roots in reality, with characters breathing the fresh air of the locality. However, once the Bard got his hands on it, his rendition became the accepted version among storytellers.
Limerick city found itself in dire straits, unable to elect a new Mayor. Session after session ended in deadlock, as the City Fathers couldn’t agree among themselves. Then, a novel proposal emerged: the first man to cross Thomond Bridge at dawn on the following Saturday would be thrust into the mayoral role, whether he desired it or not.
Enter Shawn-a-Scoob, a humble broom and brush maker residing in Cratloe Woods with his good wife. Every Saturday, he trudged to Limerick to sell his wares. And so, Shawn unwittingly became the chosen one as the first to cross Thomond Bridge.
The City Fathers, in their ornate robes, descended upon Shawn, declaring him the Mayor-to-be. They whisked him away to the grand Town Hall, adorned him in scarlet and ermine, draped a historic gold chain around his neck, and handed him a symbolic silver mace.
The town erupted in celebration that night, with lights, coloured bulbs, and foreign fireworks illuminating the streets. Meanwhile, back in Cratloe Woods, Shawn’s wife fretted over his absence. Convinced he had succumbed to drink or the allure of a young companion, she set out for Limerick.
As she crossed Thomond Bridge, she discovered the town alive with festive fervour. And then, the grand parade unfolded before her eyes—soldiers, a marching band, ecclesiastical figures, and at the centre, the Mayor himself in a finely sprung carriage, waving graciously to the jubilant crowd.
Her disbelief only lasted a moment. Overcome by reality, she rushed forward, fixated on the image of her husband. Breaking through the cheers, she called out, “Shawn! Shawn!”
At his side, she pleaded for recognition, but Shawn, adorned in regal attire, gazed down with unfamiliar eyes. In a voice gruff as a church bell, he dismissed her, “Get away home out of that, woman. Can’t you see I don’t even know myself?”
Gerard Hannan
