text_original: We lighted a candle, and poking around, found the negro where he had crept into the farthest corner of a bunk with his face to the wall. And when we touched him he gave vent to a yell that was blood curdling. "I'se a bad nigger, Lo'd, yes, I is," he moaned. "I ain't fit fo' jedgment, Lo'd."
text_transcription: WE LIGHTED A CANDLE AND POKING AROUND FOUND THE NEGRO WHERE HE HAD CREPT INTO THE FARTHEST CORNER OF A BUNK WITH HIS FACE TO THE WALL AND WHEN WE TOUCHED HIM HE GAVE VENT TO A YELL THAT WAS BLOOD CURTLING I'S A BAD NIGGER LOAD YES I IS HE MOANED I AIN'T FIT FOR JUDGMENT LOAD
phonemes: wiː lˈaɪɾᵻd ɐ kˈændəl, ænd pˈoʊkɪŋ ɚɹˈaʊnd, fˈaʊnd ðə nˈiːɡɹoʊ wˌɛɹ hiː hæd kɹˈɛpt ˌɪntʊ ðə fˈɑːɹðɪst kˈɔːɹnɚɹ əvə bˈʌŋk wɪð hɪz fˈeɪs tə ðə wˈɔːl. ænd wɛn wiː tˈʌtʃt hˌɪm hiː ɡˈeɪv vˈɛnt tʊ ɐ jˈɛl ðæt wʌz blˈʌd kˈɜːdlɪŋ. "aɪsˈɛ ɐ bˈæd nˈɪɡɚ, lˈoʊd, jˈɛs, aɪ ɪz," hiː mˈoʊnd. "aɪ ˈeɪnt fˈɪt fˈoʊ dʒˈɛdʒmənt, lˈoʊd."