text_original: There all you see, both he and she, No lady keeps her cell in; But all partake the mirth we make, Who drink at Ballyspellin. My rhymes are gone; I think I've none, Unless I should bring Hell in; But, since I'm here to Heaven so near, I can't at Ballyspellin!
text_transcription: THERE ALL YOU SEE BOTH HE AND SHE NO LADY KEEPS HER CELL IN BUT ALL PARTAKE THE MIRTH WE MAKE WHO DRINK AT BALLY'S BELON MY RHYMES ARE GONE I THINK I'VE NONE UNLESS I SHOULD BRING HELL IN BUT SINCE I'M HERE TO HEAVEN SO NEAR I CAN'T AT BALLY
phonemes: ðɛɹ ˈɔːl juː sˈiː, bˈoʊθ hiː ænd ʃiː, nˈoʊ lˈeɪdi kˈiːps hɜː sˈɛl ˈɪn; bˌʌt ˈɔːl pɑːɹtˈeɪk ðə mˈɜːθ wiː mˈeɪk, hˌuː dɹˈɪŋk æt bˌælɪspˈɛlᵻn. maɪ ɹˈaɪmz ɑːɹ ɡˈɔn; aɪ θˈɪŋk aɪv nˈʌn, ʌnlˈɛs aɪ ʃˌʊd bɹˈɪŋ hˈɛl ˈɪn; bˌʌt, sˈɪns aɪm hˈɪɹ tə hˈɛvən sˌoʊ nˈɪɹ, aɪ kˈænt æt bˌælɪspˈɛlᵻn!