text_original: By the worst of all squires, Thro' bogs and thro' briers, Where a cow would be startled, I'm in spite of my heart led; And, say what I will, Haul'd up every hill; Till, daggled and tatter'd, My spirits quite shatter'd, I return home at night, And fast, out of spite: For I'd rather be dead, Than it e'er should be said, I was better for him, In stomach or limb.
text_transcription: BY THE WORST OF ALL SQUIRES THROUGH BOGS AND THROUGH BRIARS WHERE A COW WOULD BE STARTLED I'M IN SPITE OF MY HEART LEAD AND SAY WHAT I WILL HALT UP EVERY HILL TILL DAGGLED AND TATTERED MY SPIRITS QUITE SHATTERED I RETURN HOME AT NIGHT AND FAST OUT OF SPITE FOR I'D RATHER BE DEAD THAT AN EAR SHOULD BE SAID I WAS BETTER FOR HIM IN STOMACH OR LIMB
phonemes: baɪ ðə wˈɜːst ʌv ˈɔːl skwˈaɪɚz, θɹˈoʊ bˈɑːɡz ænd θɹˈoʊ bɹˈaɪɚz, wˌɛɹ ɐ kˈaʊ wʊd biː stˈɑːɹɾəld, aɪm ɪn spˈaɪt ʌv maɪ hˈɑːɹt lˈɛd; ænd, sˈeɪ wʌt aɪ wˈɪl, hˈɔːld ˌʌp ˈɛvɹi hˈɪl; tˈɪl, dˈæɡəld ænd tˈæɾɚd, maɪ spˈɪɹɪts kwˈaɪt ʃˈæɾɚd, aɪ ɹᵻtˈɜːn hˈoʊm æt nˈaɪt, ænd fˈæst, ˌaʊɾəv spˈaɪt: fɔːɹ aɪd ɹˈæðɚ biː dˈɛd, ðɐn ɪɾ ˈɛɹ ʃˌʊd biː sˈɛd, aɪ wʌz bˈɛɾɚ fɔːɹ hˌɪm, ɪn stˈʌmək ɔːɹ lˈɪm.