text_original: Howe'er you flounce, I here pronounce, Your medicine is repelling; Your water's mud, and sours the blood When drunk at Ballyspellin. Those pocky drabs, to cure their scabs, You thither are compelling, Will back be sent worse than they went, From nasty Ballyspellin.
text_transcription: HOWE'ER YOU FLOUNCE I HERE PRONOUNCE YOUR MEDICINE IS REPELLING YOUR WATER'S MUD AND SOURS THE BLOOD WHEN DRUNK AT BALLY SPELLING THOSE POCKY DRABS TO CURE THEIR SCABS YOU THITHER ARE COMPELLING WILL BACK BE SENT WORSE THAN THEY WENT FROM NASTY BALLY SPELLIN
phonemes: hˈaʊɛɹ juː flˈaʊns, aɪ hˈɪɹ pɹənˈaʊns, jʊɹ mˈɛdəsən ɪz ɹᵻpˈɛlɪŋ; jʊɹ wˈɔːɾɚz mˈʌd, ænd sˈaʊɚz ðə blˈʌd wɛn dɹˈʌŋk æt bˌælɪspˈɛlᵻn. ðoʊz pˈɑːki dɹˈæbz, tə kjˈʊɹ ðɛɹ skˈæbz, juː ðˈɪðɚɹ ɑːɹ kəmpˈɛlɪŋ, wɪl bˈæk biː sˈɛnt wˈɜːs ðɐn ðeɪ wˈɛnt, fɹʌm nˈæsti bˌælɪspˈɛlᵻn.