Come listen, dear furlings, to Grannyfurre's tale
Of the strange furless 'Hyoomans' who live past the Veil!
Now the Veil is a thing that's crossed only in Dreams.
But for those in the know, there are thin spots and seams.
Down the sun-dappled paths of the 'Vinca' they wander
The worlds of Primes are arrayed there, out yonder.
And if you've not been there, you may still have seen them.
For sometimes a furling may sleep, and then dream them.
They've a pup's pushed-in face with the ears to the sides.
Their feet are quite flat, with a bear's rolling strides.
They've no claws and no fangs. Neither scales, fur, nor feathers.
And oddest of all, there's no tails on their nethers.
They surely look strange, but don't hiss or cry
Approach with a smile, and a twinkle in your eye
Give them a chance, and you may find a friend
In our Dreams we're the same, not so different in the end.