text_original: Och, the Lord forgive me, but I clutched it, and the missus sayin', "O Kitty!" in a way that 'ud curdle your blood. "He's a haythin nager," says I. "I've found you out," says she. "I'll arrist him," says I.
text_transcription: ACH THE LORD FORGIVE ME BUT I CLUTCHED IT AND THE MISSES SANG OH KITTY IN A WAY THAT HAD CURDLED YOUR BLOOD HE'S A HAY THE NIGGER SAYS I I'VE FOUND YOU OUT SAYS SHE I'LL ARREST HIM SAYS I
phonemes: ˈɑːk, ðə lˈɔːɹd fɚɡˈɪv mˌiː, bˌʌt aɪ klˈʌtʃt ɪt, ænd ðə mˈɪsəs sˈeɪɪn, "ˈoʊ kˈɪɾi!" ɪn ɐ wˈeɪ ðæt ˈʌd kˈɜːdəl jʊɹ blˈʌd. "hiːz ɐ hˈeɪθɪn nˈeɪdʒɚ," sˈɛz ˈaɪ. "aɪv fˈaʊnd juː ˈaʊt," sˈɛz ʃiː. "aɪl ɚɹˈɪst hˌɪm," sˈɛz ˈaɪ.