Peter O'Malley

Peter O'Malley




Set sail from his native town of Limerick, back in the bad old days, when you could nearly sell your job on the open market.
Armed with guitar, the green fields of France awaited. The busking became full time work for many years and brought him the length and breath of Europe.
Then living in Munich for two years he recorded his first E.P. This led to parts in a German T.V. documentary and many appearances on the very healthy folk scene at the time.
The homeland was calling him back and he knew that he would have to return to Limerick.

Peter then set up The O’Malley’s who at that time were playing a mix of country and Irish. It was a three piece band and they recorded a four song (E.P.) and did one or two shows on R.T.E.
Then the band got bigger and so did the tours, of Germany (in a red V.W. Van, God Bless it) the States, England and Russia.
The O'Malley's also played all the main venues (Midnight at the Olympia, Whelan’s, Dolan’s, Lobby, Cork Concert Hall, The Waterfront )around Ireland. Released two records and Videos.
Appeared on, The Late Late, Pat Kenny Show, Sunday night at the Olympia, Brendan Grace Show, Shay Healy's Nighthawks weekly show.
After the band hung up their boots, Peter then went solo doing the club circuit. He brought out a comedy single Poitin which opened the world of comedy to him.

At this time Peter started doing gigs with James Hanley and made his first solo C.D.

He toured this Album (Beyond the Pale) across Europe, from the North to the South, West to East. Peter did some recording in Denmark in the Medley Studio and has been touring over the last year with Pat Shortt and also appeared in Pat's hit T.V show "Killinaskully".
Peter is now supporting Pat Shortt at Vicar Street.

Now Peter and James are back with their new C.D.
"Till The Morning Gets Late".15 tracks.

James Hanley:

James Hanley began playing music professionally in 1984 and has played keyboards and piano with numerous bands from the Limerick area.

Meet up with Peter in 1987 and started gigging and writing together. James toured around Ireland with Peter and was involved in recording the hit single "Poitin". Later James who was by now a partner in the "Xeric studio Limerick."
produced and arranged Peter's first album "Beyond the Pale".

He toured the album extensively with Peter throughout Ireland, US,(Great Irish Ameriecan Fest in L.A.) Scandinavia and Belgium. James then went back to college and gained a degree in music, during this time he managed to tour with other bands in Germany, US and Switzerland between 1998 and 2003,and featured as session musician on many recordings.

He has been working with Peter since 2003 on the current album (Till The Morning Gets Late) which was for the most part recorded at James's new 24 track Studio,

UNIT 29 Cappamore, Co.Limerick.


The Playground,O Mother

Written By: peter o'malley

O Mother is that your son?
The one who’s learned to fight and run
He buried his friend
Down on Shrapnel Street
Put a Rosary at his head
And a popgun at his feet.
We’ve turned his playground
To a sea of mud
He plays between the dying
Lying in their blood
O Mother what have we done.

Gods use mortals
Like kids use toys
Stand on that Teddy Bear
Till it makes that screeching noise
You duck down the Ally
Where the sniper lays
He’ll shoot you in the back
He’ll shoot you any ways.
You put your Sister on a bus
She’s looking back crying blaming us
O Mother what have we done.

You say he’s a winner, he fights real clean
He’s a true trooper boy
He’s a Captain’s dream
But I don’t what to hear what he’s done
I just want my son.

O Mother there’s just you and me
A two-minute news slot on a switched off TV.
They came to see where the world wrong
Never looked to see where the Playground’s gone,
O Mother what have we done.

BAr at the end of my universe

Written By: peter o'malley

The man with the cut up face
Sat down and stole my place
Sliced my eye’s with fear,
He threatened me with guns
Said he had seven son’s
All serving time for mysteries.

He might be Lord of this
But he’s not Lord of me,
He just caught me in his Territory.

A woman who stole her life
From a Butcher who lost his wife
Some how in a three-roomed tragedy,
She made him take her home
She promised she would phone
Now she cackles in my ear of sympathy.

She might be Lord of this
But she’s not Lord of me,
She just caught me in her Territory.

John Williams stole the show
The Mic he wouldn’t let go
The “Galtee Boy” went round and round for years,
Mary William’s cried that night
In the car-park with a broken light
Dammed them for giving him free Whiskey and cheers.

He might be Lord of this
But he’s not Lord of me,
He just caught me in his Territory.

The brother of the Priest
Who hated Religion he least
Waited for the Journalist to go,
I have two dog’s running tonight
One of them’s name is shite
I called him after my last twenty years.

He might be Lord of this
But he’s not Lord of me,
He just caught me in his Territory.

The Landlady’s alley cat
Scraped at a peanut on the welcome mat
The door opened and thumped his screeching nose,
From a bar stool her eyes searched haven
A sigh read” No Prams after seven”
Her tired dress smelled of faded Rose.

She might be Lord of this
But she’s not Lord of me,
She just caught me in her Territory.

The Ballad of Angel Prett.

Written By: Peter O'Malley


The wild wind was blowing
Across the low land plains,
Angel Prett was dancing in a club without a name.
A text message on her phone
Andy Pickett is dead
In Paris on his own.

She finished her Tequila
Bid each one adieu
Packed a bag and packed some money too.
Wipers like metronomes tick tock
Through the years
The Radio drowned out
The crashing of her tears.

The Para-medics took Andy
Put him in a van
Left him in the mortuary
To a pale skinned man.
Who checked his body?
For the cause of death
Found inside his wallet
The name Angel Prett.


Marked it on his clip board
Zipped up the bag
Drank his cold tea
Flicked his subscription mag.
Death didn’t bother him
He lived it every day
Just another nameless
Filed away.

Theres a Cuban Band
On a stand
Music near the Gard.
The streets alive
Like Bee’s round a hive
The laughter locks you in.
She parks her car
On a street map, not far
As big heads on stilts
A drunkard who tilts
Her compass of life and of love.

She wades through the festival
Cold and deject able
No one feels pain
Like this woman in the rain.
The sign on the mortuary gate
Tells her, she is late
The florist sticker below the buzzer
We’re open till eight.

Andy cleaned himself
Changed into a Cashmere suit
Waited in the mortuary
For a funeral of youth.
He wasn’t a bad man
Just didn’t understand the truth
Needed Angel to play a
Requiem on a lute.

As Angle drank a coffee
Across from the interdit
She knew she’d sign the papers
Saying, yes she agrees.
To dispose of the suitcase, the urn and the bag
And any trace of Andy Pickett
She ever had.


"TILL the MORNING GETs LATE" on Keel Records.
The New C.D. just released.

"Beyond the Pale" on Round Tower Music.

Peter's songs have also been featured ,

" Drag Lines", a top selling Irish C.D.

"The Cream of New Irish Music," on Blue Note

"Songs from Ireland" and

"The Best of Irish Song Writers"

Set List

Full set of origianals and a full set of covers