What are those white remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? For it is the table of yon Stokes, Where toy soldiers march in rows, I am no hand at verse it seems, and had best stick to prose.
My Dear Heinz-Ulrich,Our friend and commentator, the estimable Conrad Kinch, proves that within every Irishman burns the spirit of the poet, if in ever so small a quantity! It was a pleasure to view your efforts in terrain design. Will you be draping a oovering over these or painting and flocking them? They should provide a wonderful venue for your table top battles when done.May you have had a wonderful Father's Day and may you have many, many more.Best regards,Gerardus Magnus Archbishop Emeritus
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