A chara, – Frank McNally's evocative piece in An Irishman"s Diary (December 18th), in which he touched on "the music of milking", reminded me of youthful summer days in south Kerry. My mother Nora milked the cow in whatever field she happened to be in, as did many of her neighbours. She always sang while milking, mostly a sweet-soft Irish melody that blended with the milk-music. Years later I recalled the soft tones in a song entitled Old Boots and Flying Sandals. "And old boots are flying sandals in the morning mist/ A golden garden leads to darkened room/ A rusted cart hoards treasure beneath the ivy's kiss/ The singing milk lilts a silken tune." – Is mise,
TIM DENNEHY,
Miltown Malbay,
Clare.