text_original: "Oh, Henry, don't you wish that Saturday afternoons lasted longer?" said little John to me. "I do," says Cousin Bill, who was never the boy to mince matters in giving his sentiments; "and I wouldn't care if Sunday didn't come but once a year."
text_transcription: OH HENRY DON'T YOU WISH THAT SATURDAY AFTERNOONS LASTED LONGER SAID LITTLE JOHN TO ME I DO SAYS COUSIN BILL WHO WAS NEVER THE BOY TO MINCE MATTERS AND GIVING HIS SENTIMENTS AND I WOULDN'T CARE IF SUNDAY DIDN'T COME BUT ONCE A YEAR
phonemes: "ˈoʊ, hˈɛnɹi, dˈoʊnt juː wˈɪʃ ðæt sˈæɾɚdˌeɪ ˌæftɚnˈuːnz lˈæstᵻd lˈɔŋɡɚ?" sˈɛd lˈɪɾəl dʒˈɑːn tə mˌiː. "aɪ dˈuː," sˈɛz kˈʌzən bˈɪl, hˌuː wʌz nˈɛvɚ ðə bˈɔɪ tə mˈɪns mˈæɾɚz ɪn ɡˈɪvɪŋ hɪz sˈɛntɪmənts; "ænd aɪ wˈʊdənt kˈɛɹ ɪf sˈʌndeɪ dˈɪdnt kˈʌm bˌʌt wˈʌns ɐ jˈɪɹ."