text_original: If once in your cellar my Phoebus should shine, I tell you I'd not give a fig for your wine; So I'll leave him behind, for I certainly know it, What he ripens above ground, he sours below it.
text_transcription: IF ONCE IN YOUR CELLAR MY PHOEBUS SHOULD SHINE I'LL TELL YOU I'D NOT GIVE A FIG FOR YOUR WINE SO I'LL LEAVE HIM BEHIND FOR I CERTAINLY KNOW IT WHEN HE RIPENS ABOVE GROUND HE SOURS BELOW IT
phonemes: ɪf wˈʌns ɪn jʊɹ sˈɛlɚ maɪ fˈoʊbəs ʃˌʊd ʃˈaɪn, aɪ tˈɛl juː aɪd nˌɑːt ɡˈɪv ɐ fˈɪɡ fɔːɹ jʊɹ wˈaɪn; sˌoʊ aɪl lˈiːv hˌɪm bᵻhˈaɪnd, fɔːɹ aɪ sˈɜːʔn̩li nˈoʊ ɪt, wˌʌt hiː ɹˈaɪpənz əbˌʌv ɡɹˈaʊnd, hiː sˈaʊɚz bᵻlˈoʊ ɪt.