text_original: "By gar!" cried Antoine le Gris, "now he drum us on to Detroit." Out of the gate rushed Cowan, the frightened villagers scattering right and left. Antoine had a friend who lived in this street, and in ten minutes there was rum in the powder horns, and the toast was "On to Detroit!"
text_transcription: BAGAR CRIED ANTOINE LA GRYTHES NOW YOU DRUM US ON TO DETROIT OUT OF THE GATE RUSHED COWHILLS SCATTERING RIGHT AND LEFT ANTOINE HAD A FRIEND WHO LIVED IN THIS STREET AND IN TEN MINUTES THERE WAS RUM IN THE POWDER HORNS AND THE TOAST WAS ON TO DETROIT
phonemes: "baɪ ɡˈɑːɹ!" kɹˈaɪd ˈæntɔɪn lə ɡɹˈɪs, "nˈaʊ hiː dɹˈʌm ˌʌs ˌɔn tə dɪtɹˈɔɪt." ˌaʊɾəv ðə ɡˈeɪt ɹˈʌʃt kˈaʊən, ðə fɹˈaɪʔn̩d vˈɪlɪdʒɚz skˈæɾɚɹɪŋ ɹˈaɪt ænd lˈɛft. ˈæntɔɪn hæd ɐ fɹˈɛnd hˌuː lˈɪvd ɪn ðɪs stɹˈiːt, ænd ɪn tˈɛn mˈɪnɪts ðɛɹwˌʌz ɹˈʌm ɪnðə pˈaʊdɚ hˈɔːɹnz, ænd ðə tˈoʊst wʌz "ˌɔn tə dɪtɹˈɔɪt!"