Heck, I might as well paste them here:

THE TRIANTIWONTIGONGOLOPE
by C J Dennis
Written in 1921.

There's a very funny insect that you do not often spy,
And it isn't quite a spider, and it isn't quite a fly;
It is something like a beetle, and a little like a bee,
But nothing like a wooly grub that climbs upon a tree.
Its name is quite a hard one, but you'll learn it soon, I hope.
So try:
Tri-
    Tri-anti-wonti-
       Triantiwontigongolope.

It lives on weeds and wattle-gum, and has a funny face;
Its appetite is hearty, and its manners a disgrace.
When first you come upon it, it will give you quite a scare,
But when you look for it again, you find it isn't there.
And unless you call it softly it will stay away and mope.
So try:
Tri-
    Tri-anti-wonti-
       Triantiwontigongolope.

It trembles if you tickle it or tread upon its toes;
It is not an early riser, but it has a snubbish nose.
If you snear at it, or scold it, it will scuttle off in shame,
But it purrs and purrs quite proudly if you call it by its name,
And offer it some sandwiches of sealing-wax and soap.
So try:
Tri-
    Tri-anti-wonti-
       Triantiwontigongolope .

But of course you haven't seen it; and I truthfully confess
That I haven't seen it either, and I don't know its address.
For there isn't such an insect, though there really might have been
If the trees and grass were purple, and the sky was bottle green.
It's just a little joke of mine, which you'll forgive, I hope.
Oh, try!
Tri-
    Tri-anti-wonti-
       Triantiwontigongolope.



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This poem is thought to be in the public domain. If this is the case, you may print and distribute copies as you wish.
Poem Notes:
This is taken from a book published in 1921 C.J. Dennis' Book for Kids.
C.J. and his wife had no children of their own but his love of children is evident in this collection of beautiful children poems: - his foreward read:
....Too all good children over four
and under four and eighty
Be ye not over-prone to pore
On matters grave and weighty
Mayhap you'll find within this book
Some touch of youth's rare clowning
If you will condescend to look
and not descend to frowning.
The mind of one small boy may hold
odd fancies and inviting
To guide a hand unsure and old
that moves these days to writing
For hair once bright in days of yore
Grows grey (or somewhat slaty)
and now alas he's over four
though under four and eighty.

- C.J. Dennis