text_original: Cried the Lord of Acadia, Cried Charles of Estienne! From the prow of his shallop He gazed, as the sun From its bed in the ocean, Streamed up the St. John. O'er the blue western waters That shallop had passed, Where the mists of Penobscot Clung damp on her mast.
text_transcription: CRIED THE LORD VACATA CRIED CHARLES OF HIS SKIN FROM THE PROWL OF HIS SHALLOP HE GAZED AS THE SUN FROM ITS BED IN THE OCEAN STRAINED UP THE SAINT JOHN OR THE BLUE WESTERN WATERS THAT SHOP HAD PASSED WHERE THE MISTS OF PANOPSCOT CLUMBED DAMP ON HER MAST
phonemes: kɹˈaɪd ðə lˈɔːɹd ʌv ɐkˈeɪdiə, kɹˈaɪd tʃˈɑːɹlz ʌv ˈɛsʃən! fɹʌmðə pɹˈaʊ ʌv hɪz ʃˈæləp hiː ɡˈeɪzd, æz ðə sˈʌn fɹʌm ɪts bˈɛd ɪnðɪ ˈoʊʃən, stɹˈiːmd ˈʌp ðə sənt. dʒˈɑːn. ˈɔːɹ ðə blˈuː wˈɛstɚn wˈɔːɾɚz ðæt ʃˈæləp hæd pˈæst, wˌɛɹ ðə mˈɪsts ʌv pənˈɑːbskɑːt klˈʌŋ dˈæmp ˌɔn hɜː mˈæst.