Leaving Home, Coming Home: Clover’s Revenge in Ireland 2026

We went to Ireland to learn how our ancestors left home. We did not anticipate that three of our travelers would come back with Clover’s Revenge tattooed on their bodies. 

Ten nights, eleven days, four shows, one bus,a musical trio and a small busload of strangers on September 11 became a family by the 21st. That’s the short review. Here’s the longer one.

Dublin and the road south

We gathered, as we do, at the Camden Court Hotel and started at the EPIC Emigration Museum, which is a lot of history, wist, pride and sadness to absorb. Then we headed south through the Wicklow Mountains to Glendalough, where the lakes were gray, the streams were bubbly and babbly, the hills were green, and mallards walked across the shallows like they owned the place. They probably do.

Wexford

The Dunbrody Famine Ship is the kind of stop that quiets a happy bus. Standing on the deck of a coffin ship replica, hearing what the passengers endured, puts every airline complaint we’ve ever had into perspective. Basically it was brutal and we should just quietly and respectfully quit whining. Nearby, Thomas Moore’s “As Slow Our Ship” is carved in black granite, and it’s hard to read that last line about those we’ve left behind without thinking about who’s waiting at home for you. 

Our first show was in a hotel courtyard in Wexford, fully acoustic, on the night Shane Lowry closed with a 63 to win the Irish Open by a record 11 shots. We figured we’d lost the room to golf. Instead, the packed bar emptied out once the trophy was lifted, and some lovely locals wandered into the courtyard to join our travelers. We met a man who owns 60 Thin Lizzy T-shirts and another 40 Rory Gallagher shirts, which makes him among the best-dressed music historians in Ireland. We also met a lady who was absolutely certain Beau’s cajon was a speaker. No demonstration could convince her otherwise, and the bus made sure Beau never heard the end of it for the rest of the trip. Thanks Lee. 

Kilkenny

Castle, cathedral, Smithwick’s, and the medieval stone slips that make everybody look like an album cover. At Matt the Millers, we met some fabulous people from Canada who were driving the Irish Cannonball Run, and they let Beau climb into their red Ferrari. “I’ve been in a lot of cars. This one felt more like a rocketship” They drove off with a car full of horsepower, and we went back to the tour bus, which has a functioning restroom and is therefore superior in its own way. Lee, the bartender at Tynan’s is not named Fifi. It’s Phoebe.

Cork and Cobh

Cobh was the emotional center of the trip. It was the last piece of Ireland millions of emigrants ever saw, and for a lot of our travelers, it was the place their own families walked through on the way to Amerikay.

Show two was at the Old Oak in Cork, a town so crammed with young people that we briefly felt like chaperones. It was loud, it was fun, and Cork went straight onto our list of places we need to get back to.

Killarney

Ladies View delivered exactly what the postcards promise: lakes, mountains, and weather that changed four times while we took one photo.

Show three brought us back to J.M. Reidy’s in Killarney for a repeat performance. It’s a good feeling to return to a room that remembers you, and we drew a nice crowd that included several new friends.

Back to Dublin

We closed the tour in Temple Bar at the Ha’Penny Bridge Inn, downstairs, on a beautiful Dublin night with a great crowd. There are worse ways to say goodbye to a country.

The ink

Brooke and Russ both got the band logo tattooed, and Melody got a beautiful piece she designed herself. Having our band name permanently on other people’s bodies is a strange and bizarre honor, and we’re still getting used to it. We’ve had fans buy shirts, CDs, trips to Europe and the occasional round. This is a totally different level of commitment, and we don’t take it lightly. We’re also fairly sure it means we can never break up.

The people

Many of us were strangers when we boarded the bus in Dublin. By the time we rolled back into the Camden Court ten days later, it felt like family. We had great conversations with every traveler on the trip, and a lot of friendships were formed or made stronger somewhere between the whiskey toasts and the poetry. Between Katie and Jane, we met at least fifty new Irish friends. Lee kept us on time and full of mirth and history, and the bus, as it does, kept its secrets. 

Somewhere near Glendalough, in a library in a pub, under a framed picture of Brendan Behan is his line about how he only drinks when he’s thirsty and when he isn’t. At that pub, the Guinness is perfectly poured, and the veggie soup is its equal. Russ will tell you. 

The bus is having a reunion at our Celtic Ray show on November 7, so if you were on the trip, mark your calendar. If you weren’t, come anyway and hear the stories we’re allowed to tell. Or just come and hang out. We went to Ireland to understand leaving home. What we learned is that you can do it while finding a home among new friends.

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