text_original: It was too late. The puncheon rose under me, I stumbled, and it fell again. Once more the awful changing notes of the war whoop sounded without. A body bumped on the boards, a white light rose before my eyes, and a sharp pain leaped in my side.
text_transcription: IT WAS TOO LATE THE PUNCHEON ROSE UNDER ME I STUMBLED AND IT FELL AGAIN ONCE MORE THE AWFUL CHANGING NOTES OF THE WAR WHOOP SOUNDED WITHOUT A BODY BUMPED ON THE BOARDS A WHITE LIGHT ROSE BEFORE MY EYES AND A SHARP PAIN LEAPED IN MY SIDE
phonemes: ɪt wʌz tˈuː lˈeɪt. ðə pˈʌntʃən ɹˈoʊz ˈʌndɚ mˌiː, aɪ stˈʌmbəld, ænd ɪt fˈɛl ɐɡˈɛn. wˈʌns mˈɔːɹ ðɪ ˈɔːfəl tʃˈeɪndʒɪŋ nˈoʊts ʌvðə wˈɔːɹ wˈuːp sˈaʊndᵻd wɪðˈaʊt. ɐ bˈɑːdi bˈʌmpt ɔnðə bˈɔːɹdz, ɐ wˈaɪt lˈaɪt ɹˈoʊz bᵻfˌɔːɹ maɪ ˈaɪz, ænd ɐ ʃˈɑːɹp pˈeɪn lˈiːpt ɪn maɪ sˈaɪd.