At Miss Anthropic’s golf club
The pretty greens and golden sand
Allows a lady fair, to drive a ball anywhere
One in a million places, it must land
Wow, one in a million!
Pray, raise your hat
And she does it every time
You just couldn’t predict that
And at Mr Universal’s ballpark
Things for gents, are much the same
A perfect fit for he, to such a degree
You’d think the boys, had rigged the game
Wow, one in a trillion!
Spaces he could land
If we could only predict
Which one, beforehand
Our Universe seems to be tailor-made for us
Yet, if we’d come to rest in one elsewhere
It too would seem, just as finely tuned
Though, what ‘we’d’ be like, still isn’t clear