text_original: "Sure, Davy dear, it puts me in mind of the Saints' day at home," said Terence, as he stood leaning against a picket fence that bordered the street, "savin' the presence of the naygurs and thim red divils wid blankets an' scowls as wud turrn the milk sour in the pail."
text_transcription: SURE DAVY DEAR IT PUTS ME IN MIND OF THE SAINTS DAYS AT HOME SAID TERENCE AS HE STOOD LEANING AGAINST A PICKET TENTS THAT BORDERED THE STREET SAVE IN THE PRESENCE OF THE NEGROES AND TEN RED DEVILS WITH BLANKETS AND SCOWLS AS WOULD TURN THE MILK'S HOUR IN THE PAIL
phonemes: "ʃˈʊɹ, dˈeɪvi dˈɪɹ, ɪt pˌʊts mˌiː ɪn mˈaɪnd ʌvðə sˈeɪnts dˈeɪ æt hˈoʊm," sˈɛd tˈɛɹəns, æz hiː stˈʊd lˈiːnɪŋ ɐɡˈɛnst ɐ pˈɪkɪt fˈɛns ðæt bˈɔːɹdɚd ðə stɹˈiːt, "sˈævɪn ðə pɹˈɛzəns ʌvðə nˈeɪɡɚz ænd θˈɪm ɹˈɛd dˈɪvəlz wˈɪd blˈæŋkɪts æn skˈaʊlz æz wˈʌd tˈɜːn ðə mˈɪlk sˈaʊɚɹ ɪnðə pˈeɪl."