text_original: The Old Year greedily grasped his plunder, And covered it over and hurried away: Of the thousand things that he did, I wonder How many will rise at the call of May? O wise Young Year, with your hands held under Your mantle of ermine, tell me, pray!
text_transcription: THE OLD YEAR GREEDILY GRASPED ITS PLUNDER AND COVERED IT OVER AND HURRIED AWAY OF THE THOUSAND THINGS THAT HE DID I WONDER HOW MANY WILL RISE AT THE CALL OF MAY O WISE YOUNG YEAR WITH YOUR HANDS HELD UNDER YOUR MANTLE OF ERMINE TELL ME PRAY
phonemes: ðɪ ˈoʊld jˈɪɹ ɡɹˈiːdili ɡɹˈæspt hɪz plˈʌndɚ, ænd kˈʌvɚd ɪɾ ˌoʊvɚ ænd hˈɜːɹid ɐwˈeɪ: ʌvðə θˈaʊzənd θˈɪŋz ðæt hiː dˈɪd, aɪ wˈʌndɚ hˌaʊ mˈɛni wɪl ɹˈaɪz æt ðə kˈɔːl ʌv mˈeɪ? ˈoʊ wˈaɪz jˈʌŋ jˈɪɹ, wɪð jʊɹ hˈændz hˈɛld ˌʌndɚ jʊɹ mˈæntəl ʌv ˈɜːmɪn, tˈɛl mˌiː, pɹˈeɪ!