text_original: Every morning as we set out with the wet hide chafing our skin, the Colonel would run the length of the regiment, crying:   "Who gives the feast to night, boys?" Now it was Bowman's company, now McCarty's, now Bayley's. How the hunters vied with each other to supply the best, and spent the days stalking the deer cowering in the wet thickets.
text_transcription: EVERY MORNING AS WE SET OUT WITH THE WET HIDE CHAFING OUR SKIN THE COLONEL WOULD RUN THE LENGTH OF THE REGIMENT CRYING WHO GIVES THE FEAST TO NIGHT BOYS NOW IT WAS BOWMAN'S COMPANY NELL MACARDES NELL BAILIES HOW THE HUNTERS VIED WITH EACH OTHER TO SUPPLY THE BEST AND SPENT THE DAYS STALKING THE DEER COWERING IN THE WET THICKETS
phonemes: ˈɛvɹi mˈɔːɹnɪŋ æz wiː sˈɛt ˈaʊt wɪððə wˈɛt hˈaɪd tʃˈeɪfɪŋ ˌaʊɚ skˈɪn, ðə kˈɜːnəl wʊd ɹˈʌn ðə lˈɛŋθ ʌvðə ɹˈɛdʒɪmənt, kɹˈaɪɪŋ:   "hˌuː ɡˈɪvz ðə fˈiːst tə nˈaɪt, bˈɔɪz?" nˈaʊ ɪt wʌz bˈoʊmənz kˈʌmpəni, nˈaʊ mə kˈɑːɹɾiz, nˈaʊ bˈeɪliz. hˌaʊ ðə hˈʌntɚz vˈaɪd wɪð ˈiːtʃ ˈʌðɚ tə səplˈaɪ ðə bˈɛst, ænd spˈɛnt ðə dˈeɪz stˈɔːkɪŋ ðə dˈɪɹ kˈaʊɚɹɪŋ ɪnðə wˈɛt θˈɪkɪts.