text_original: ON A CORKSCREW Though I, alas! a prisoner be, My trade is prisoners to set free. No slave his lord's commands obeys With such insinuating ways. My genius piercing, sharp, and bright, Wherein the men of wit delight.
text_transcription: ON A CORKSCREW THOUGH I ALAS A PRISONER BE MY TRADE IS PRISONERS TOO SET FREE NO SLAVE HIS LORD'S COMMANDS OBEYS WITH SUCH INSINUATING WAYS MY GENIUS PIERCING SHARP AND BRIGHT WHEREIN THE MEN OF WIT DELIGHT
phonemes: ˌɔn ɐ kˈɔːɹkskɹuː ðˌoʊ ˈaɪ, ɐlˈæs! ɐ pɹˈɪzənɚ bˈiː, maɪ tɹˈeɪd ɪz pɹˈɪzənɚz tə sˈɛt fɹˈiː. nˈoʊ slˈeɪv hɪz lˈɔːɹdz kəmˈændz oʊbˈeɪz wɪð sˈʌtʃ ɪnsˈɪnjuːˌeɪɾɪŋ wˈeɪz. maɪ dʒˈiːnɪəs pˈɪɹsɪŋ, ʃˈɑːɹp, ænd bɹˈaɪt, wˈɛɹɪn ðə mˈɛn ʌv wˈɪt dᵻlˈaɪt.