text_original: Such is the story she tells, Our mother, the pride of us all. Ring out your music, O bells, That ever such things could befall! Ring not for Mugford alone, Ring for the twenty unknown, Who fought hand to hand at his side, Who saw his last look when he died, And who brought him, though dead, to his own! JOHN WHITE CHADWICK.
text_transcription: SUCH IS THE STORY SHE TELLS OUR MOTHER THE PRIDE OF US ALL RING OUT YOUR MUSIC O BELLS THAT EVER SUCH THINGS COULD BEFALL RING NOT FOR MUGFORD ALONE RING FOR THE TWENTY UNKNOWN WHO FOUGHT HAND TO HAND AT HIS SIDE WHO SAW HIS LAST LOOK WHEN HE DIED AND WHO BROUGHT HIM THOUGH DEAD TO HIS OWN JOHN WHITE CHADWICK
phonemes: sˈʌtʃ ɪz ðə stˈɔːɹi ʃiː tˈɛlz, ˌaʊɚ mˈʌðɚ, ðə pɹˈaɪd ʌv ˌʌs ˈɔːl. ɹˈɪŋ ˈaʊt jʊɹ mjˈuːzɪk, ˈoʊ bˈɛlz, ðæt ˈɛvɚ sˈʌtʃ θˈɪŋz kʊd bᵻfˈɔːl! ɹˈɪŋ nˌɑːt fɔːɹ mˈʌɡfɚd ɐlˈoʊn, ɹˈɪŋ fɚðə twˈɛnti ʌnnˈoʊn, hˌuː fˈɔːt hˈænd tə hˈænd æt hɪz sˈaɪd, hˌuː sˈɔː hɪz lˈæst lˈʊk wɛn hiː dˈaɪd, ænd hˌuː bɹˈɔːt hˌɪm, ðˌoʊ dˈɛd, tə hɪz ˈoʊn! dʒˈɑːn wˈaɪt tʃˈædwɪk.