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In Melbourne town, where trams softly creep,
A mystery unfolds about the Green Sheep.
Architects of merit, a talented bunch,
Have not been sighted since yesterday’s lunch.
"Where are the Green Sheep?" folks start to implore,
Architects supreme, now seen no more.
Where are they now and why did they go?
We can’t stop asking, we simply must know. Through meadows we searched, in grass so sweet,
We looked, we checked, down every single street.
But the Green Sheep, a mystery unsolved,
In fields of question marks, their tale evolved. Just when we thought the case might be cold,
Out of nowhere emerged a nugget of gold.
Rumours whispered of Northcote's embrace,
A brand new office, in a brand new place. In Northcote's heart, the mystery unfurled,
At last we could stop scouring the world.
We found architects at desks, with pencils in hand,
Designing new homes for all in the land. So fear not, dear reader, the sheep are okay!
They’re busy at work, designing all day.
In Northcote, they flourish, their creativity soaring,
Architects of wonder, in green wool adorning.
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