A Lament for Leaving and a Love Letter to the Roads That Never Truly Let Us Go
When “From Clare to Here” appeared on Nanci Griffith’s 1986 album The Last of the True Believers, it did not storm the pop charts or dominate radio playlists. In fact, it never became a major commercial hit in the United States or the United Kingdom. But to measure this song by chart position would be to misunderstand its quiet, enduring power. It belongs to that rarer category of music—songs that live not in rankings, but in the private chambers of memory. And through Nanci Griffith’s tender interpretation, this Irish ballad found a second life far from its original shores.
It is important to note that “From Clare to Here” was written by the Irish folk singer and songwriter Ralph McTell, best known for his 1974 hit “Streets of London.” McTell’s original version appeared in 1976, and like many great folk compositions, it told a story that felt timeless: the ache of migration, the loneliness of labor in a foreign land, and the persistent tug of home. By the time Nanci Griffith recorded it a decade later, she was emerging as one of the most literate and emotionally transparent voices in contemporary folk and country music. Her album The Last of the True Believers reached No. 66 on the Billboard Top Country Albums chart, modest by Nashville standards, but it became a cornerstone of her artistic identity.
Griffith’s choice to record “From Clare to Here” was no accident. She had always been drawn to songs of displacement and longing—stories of ordinary people caught between geography and memory. In McTell’s lyric, the Irish laborer working on English building sites carries County Clare not just in his suitcase, but in his heart. Griffith understood that sentiment intimately. Though she was born and raised in Texas, she was spiritually at home in the narrative tradition of Irish and British folk songwriting. When she sang, “It’s a long, long way from Clare to here,” she did not merely echo a line; she inhabited it.
The story behind the song reflects a historical reality. During the 1950s and 1960s, thousands of Irish men left rural counties like Clare to find work in England, particularly in construction. They often lived in cramped conditions, sending money home, existing in a state of emotional suspension—neither fully settled abroad nor able to return. McTell captured that atmosphere with remarkable restraint. There is no melodrama in the lyric, only the quiet dignity of endurance.
What makes Nanci Griffith’s version especially poignant is her voice—clear, almost fragile, yet unwavering. She never over-sings the pain. Instead, she allows space between the phrases, as though the silence itself carries memory. On The Last of the True Believers, surrounded by songs that examine faith, hope, and resilience, “From Clare to Here” becomes a moment of hushed reflection. It stands like a sepia photograph tucked between brighter images.
Though it was not released as a charting single, the song became a staple in Griffith’s live performances. Audiences who followed her through the 1980s and beyond often cite it as one of the emotional high points of her concerts. In later years, especially after her passing in 2021, listeners returned to this recording with renewed tenderness. It felt almost autobiographical—an artist who spent her life traveling, performing, belonging everywhere and nowhere, singing about distance and home.
The meaning of “From Clare to Here” extends beyond Irish migration. It speaks to anyone who has ever stood on unfamiliar soil while dreaming of a familiar horizon. It reminds us that physical distance can never entirely sever emotional roots. The road may stretch endlessly ahead, but memory remains anchored in place.
In the broader arc of Nanci Griffith’s career, this song affirms her role as a custodian of stories—songs that might otherwise have faded into quiet corners of the folk tradition. She did not chase trends; she preserved truths. And in doing so, she ensured that a ballad born in Ireland could find a new heartbeat in Texas, Nashville, London, and beyond.
Listening today, decades removed from its recording, one hears more than a folk song. One hears the echo of departure halls, the hum of construction sites, the murmur of letters read by lamplight. Above all, one hears the enduring human need to remember where we come from—even as life carries us far from home.
Oldies Songs