text_original: [1] A sieve keeps half in, and therefore, no doubt, Like a woman, keeps in less than it lets out. Why sure, Mr. Poet, your head got a jar, By riding this morning too long in your car: And I wish your few friends, when they next see your cargo, For the sake of your senses would lay an embargo.
text_transcription: A SIEVE KEEPS HALF IN AND THEREFORE NO DOUBT LIKE A WOMAN KEEPS IN LESS THAN IT LETS OUT WHY SURE MISTER POET YOUR HEAD GOT AJAR BY RIDING THIS MORNING TOO LONG IN YOUR CAR AND I WISH YOUR FEW FRIENDS WHEN THEY NEXT SEE YOUR CARGO FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR SENSES WOULD LAY ON AN BARGO
phonemes: [wˈʌn] ɐ sˈɪv kˈiːps hˈæf ˈɪn, ænd ðˈɛɹfɔːɹ, nˈoʊ dˈaʊt, lˈaɪk ɐ wˈʊmən, kˈiːps ɪn lˈɛs ðɐn ɪt lˈɛts ˈaʊt. wˌaɪ ʃˈʊɹ, mˈɪstɚ. pˈoʊɪt, jʊɹ hˈɛd ɡɑːt ɐ dʒˈɑːɹ, baɪ ɹˈaɪdɪŋ ðɪs mˈɔːɹnɪŋ tˈuː lˈɔŋ ɪn jʊɹ kˈɑːɹ: ænd aɪ wˈɪʃ jʊɹ fjˈuː fɹˈɛndz, wˌɛn ðeɪ nˈɛkst sˈiː jʊɹ kˈɑːɹɡoʊ, fɚðə sˈeɪk ʌv jʊɹ sˈɛnsᵻz wʊd lˈeɪ ɐn ɛmbˈɑːɹɡoʊ.