text_original: Darting in, she fairly hauled me to the shake down in the far corner. "Will ye bleed to death, Davy?" she cried, as she slipped off my legging and bent over the wound. Her eye lighting on a gourdful of water on the puncheon table, she tore a strip from her dress and washed and bound me deftly.
text_transcription: DARTING IN SHE FAIRLY HAULED ME TO THE SHAKEDOWN IN THE FAR CORNER WILL YOU BLEED TO DEATH DAVY SHE CRIED AS SHE SLIPPED OFF MY LEGGING AND BENT OVER THE WOUND HER EYE LIGHTING ON A GOURDFUL OF WATER ON THE PUNCHEON TABLE SHE TORE A STRIP FROM HER DRESS AND WATCHED AND BOUND ME DEFTLY
phonemes: dˈɑːɹɾɪŋ ˈɪn, ʃiː fˈɛɹli hˈɔːld mˌiː tə ðə ʃˈeɪk dˌaʊn ɪnðə fˈɑːɹ kˈɔːɹnɚ. "wɪl jiː blˈiːd tə dˈɛθ, dˈeɪvi?" ʃiː kɹˈaɪd, æz ʃiː slˈɪpt ˈɔf maɪ lˈɛɡɪŋ ænd bˈɛnt ˌoʊvɚ ðə wˈuːnd. hɜːɹ ˈaɪ lˈaɪɾɪŋ ˌɔn ɐ ɡˈʊɹdfəl ʌv wˈɔːɾɚɹ ɔnðə pˈʌntʃən tˈeɪbəl, ʃiː tˈɔːɹ ɐ stɹˈɪp fɹʌm hɜː dɹˈɛs ænd wˈɑːʃt ænd bˈaʊnd mˌiː dˈɛftli.