text_original: 'Tis but by our peculiar grace, That Phoebus ever shows his face; For, when we please, we open wide Our curtains blue from side to side; And then how saucily he shows His brazen face and fiery nose; And gives himself a haughty air, As if he made the weather fair!
text_transcription: TIS BUT BY OUR PECULIAR GRACE THAT PHOEBUS EVER SHOWS HIS FACE FOR WHEN WE PLEASE WE OPEN WIDE OUR CURTAINS BLUE FROM SIDE TO SIDE AND THEN HOW SAUCILY HE SHOWS HIS BRAZEN FACE AND FIERY NOSE AND GIVES HIMSELF A HAUGHTY AIR AS IF HE MADE THE WEATHER FAIR
phonemes: tˈɪz bˌʌt baɪ ˌaʊɚ pɪkjˈuːlɪɹ ɡɹˈeɪs, ðæt fˈoʊbəs ˈɛvɚ ʃˈoʊz hɪz fˈeɪs; fɔːɹ, wˌɛn wiː plˈiːz, wiː ˈoʊpən wˈaɪd ˌaʊɚ kˈɜːtənz blˈuː fɹʌm sˈaɪd tə sˈaɪd; ænd ðˈɛn hˌaʊ sˈɔːsili hiː ʃˈoʊz hɪz bɹˈeɪzən fˈeɪs ænd fˈaɪɚɹi nˈoʊz; ænd ɡˈɪvz hɪmsˈɛlf ɐ hˈɔːɾi ˈɛɹ, æz ɪf hiː mˌeɪd ðə wˈɛðɚ fˈɛɹ!