text_original: Thou then wouldst show another face. Clogher! far north, my lord, it lies, 'Midst snowy hills, inclement skies: One shivers with the arctic wind, One hears the polar axis grind. Good John[3] indeed, with beef and claret, Makes the place warm, that one may bear it.
text_transcription: THOUGH THEN WOULDST SHOW ANOTHER FACE CLOFER FAR NORTH MY LORD IT LIES MIDST SNOWY HILLS INCLEMENT'S SKIES ONE SHIVERS WITH THE ARCTIC WIND ONE HEARS THE POLAR ACCES GRIND GOOD JOHN INDEED WITH BEEF AND CLARET MAKES THEE PLACE WARM THAT ONE MAY BEAR IT
phonemes: ðˈaʊ ðˈɛn wʊdst ʃˈoʊ ɐnˈʌðɚ fˈeɪs. klˈɑːɡhɚ! fˈɑːɹ nˈɔːɹθ, maɪ lˈɔːɹd, ɪt lˈaɪz, mˈɪdst snˈoʊi hˈɪlz, ɪŋklˈɛmənt skˈaɪz: wˈʌn ʃˈɪvɚz wɪððɪ ˈɑːɹktɪk wˈɪnd, wˈʌn hˈɪɹz ðə pˈoʊlɚɹ ˈæksɪs ɡɹˈaɪnd. ɡˈʊd dʒˈɑːn[θɹˈiː] ˌɪndˈiːd, wɪð bˈiːf ænd klˈæɹət, mˌeɪks ðə plˈeɪs wˈɔːɹm, ðˈætwˌʌn mˈeɪ bˈɛɹ ɪt.