text_original: You made me in your last a goose; I lay my life on't you are wrong, To raise me by such foul abuse; My quill you'll find's a woman's tongue; And slit, just like a bird will chatter, And like a bird do something more; When I let fly, 'twill so bespatter, I'll change you to a black a moor.
text_transcription: YOU MADE ME IN YOUR LAST A GOOSE I LAY MY LIFE ONTO YOU ARE WRONG TO RAISE ME BY SUCH FOUL ABUSE MY QUILL YOU'LL FINDS A WOMAN'S TONGUE AND SLITH JUST LIKE A BIRD WILL CHATTER AND LIKE A BIRD DO SOMETHING MORE WHEN I LET FLY TWILL SOAP BESPATTER I'LL CHANGE YOU TO A BLACKAMOR
phonemes: juː mˌeɪd mˌiː ɪn jʊɹ lˈæst ɐ ɡˈuːs; aɪ lˈeɪ maɪ lˈaɪf ˈɑːnt juː ɑːɹ ɹˈɔŋ, tə ɹˈeɪz mˌiː baɪ sˈʌtʃ fˈaʊl ɐbjˈuːs; maɪ kwˈɪl juːl fˈaɪndz ɐ wˈʊmənz tˈʌŋ; ænd slˈɪt, dʒˈʌst lˈaɪk ɐ bˈɜːd wɪl tʃˈæɾɚ, ænd lˈaɪk ɐ bˈɜːd dˈuː sˈʌmθɪŋ mˈɔːɹ; wˌɛn aɪ lˈɛt flˈaɪ, twˈɪl sˌoʊ bᵻspˈæɾɚ, aɪl tʃˈeɪndʒ juː tʊ ɐ blˈæk ɐ mˈʊɹ.