text_original: He pushed back the door, fashioned in one great slab from a forest tree. His welcome was an angry whir, and a huge yellow rattler lay coiled within, his head reared to strike. Polly Ann leaned back. "Mercy," she cried, "that's a bad sign."
text_transcription: HE PUSHED BACK THE DOOR FASHIONED IN ONE GREAT SLAB FROM A FOREST TREE HIS WELCOME WAS AN ANGRY WHIRL AND A HUGE YELLOW RATTLER LAY COILED WITHIN HIS HEAD REARED TO STRIKE POLLYANNE LEANED BACK MERCY SHE CRIED THAT'S A BAD SIGN
phonemes: hiː pˈʊʃt bˈæk ðə dˈɔːɹ, fˈæʃənd ɪn wˈʌn ɡɹˈeɪt slˈæb fɹʌm ɐ fˈɔːɹɪst tɹˈiː. hɪz wˈɛlkʌm wʌz ɐn ˈæŋɡɹi wˈɜː, ænd ɐ hjˈuːdʒ jˈɛloʊ ɹˈætlɚ lˈeɪ kˈɔɪld wɪðˈɪn, hɪz hˈɛd ɹˈɪɹd tə stɹˈaɪk. pˈɑːli ˈæn lˈiːnd bˈæk. "mˈɜːsi," ʃiː kɹˈaɪd, "ðæts ɐ bˈæd sˈaɪn."