text_original: "'Tis no news to me," said Terence, stamping his feet on the flinty ground; "wasn't it Davy that pointed him out to us and the hair liftin' from his head six months since?" "Und you like schwimmin', yes?" said Swein Poulsson, his face like the rising sun with the cold.
text_transcription: TIS NO NEWS TO ME SAID TARRANT STAMPING HIS FEET ON THE FLITTY GROUND WASN'T IT DAVID THAT POINTED HIM OUT TO US AND THE HAIR LIFTED FROM HIS HEAD SIX MONTHS HENCE WILL YOU LIKE SWIMMING YES SAID SWIN POLESEN HIS FACE LIKE THE RISING SUN WITH THE COLD
phonemes: "tˈɪz nˈoʊ nˈuːz tə mˌiː," sˈɛd tˈɛɹəns, stˈæmpɪŋ hɪz fˈiːt ɔnðə flˈɪnti ɡɹˈaʊnd; "wˈʌzn̩t ɪt dˈeɪvi ðæt pˈɔɪntᵻd hˌɪm ˈaʊt tʊ ˌʌs ænd ðə hˈɛɹ lˈɪftɪn fɹʌm hɪz hˈɛd sˈɪks mˈʌnθs sˈɪns?" "ˈʌnd juː lˈaɪk ʃwˈɪmɪn, jˈɛs?" sˈɛd swˈeɪn pˈaʊlsən, hɪz fˈeɪs lˈaɪk ðə ɹˈaɪzɪŋ sˈʌn wɪððə kˈoʊld.