text_original: "On your life!" he cried, in great agitation. "I've hoisted it and struck it with my own hands, morning and night, any time these five years. D' ye think I'll have a lubberly son of a sea cook like you do it now?"
text_transcription: ON YOUR LIFE HE CRIED IN GREAT AGITATION I'VE HOISTED IT AND STRUCK IT WITH MY OWN HANDS MORNING AND NIGHT ANY TIME THESE FIVE YEARS D'YOU THINK I'LL HAVE A LOVELY SON OF A SEA COOK LIKE YOU DO IT NOW
phonemes: "ˌɔn jʊɹ lˈaɪf!" hiː kɹˈaɪd, ɪn ɡɹˈeɪt ˌædʒɪtˈeɪʃən. "aɪv hˈɔɪstᵻd ɪt ænd stɹˈʌk ɪt wɪð maɪ ˈoʊn hˈændz, mˈɔːɹnɪŋ ænd nˈaɪt, ˌɛni tˈaɪm ðiːz fˈaɪv jˈɪɹz. dˈiː jiː θˈɪŋk aɪl hæv ɐ lˈʌbɚli sˈʌn əvə sˈiː kˈʊk lˈaɪk juː dˈuː ɪt nˈaʊ?"