text_original: 34 The sea is calling to us in a blithesome voice and free, There's keenest rapture on its breast and boundless liberty ! Each man is master of his craft, its gleaming sails out  blown. And far behind him on the shore a home he calls his own.
text_transcription: THE SEA IS CALLING TO US IN A BLITHESOME VOICE AND FREE THERE'S KEENEST RAPTURE ON ITS BREAST AND BOUNDLESS LIBERTY EACH MAN IS MASTER OF HIS CRAFT ITS GLEAMING SAILS OUTBLOWN AND FAR BEHIND HIM ON THE SHORE A HOME HE CALLS HIS OWN
phonemes: θˈɜːɾi fˈɔːɹ ðə sˈiː ɪz kˈɔːlɪŋ tʊ ˌʌs ɪn ɐ blˈaɪðsʌm vˈɔɪs ænd fɹˈiː, ðɛɹz kˈiːnɪst ɹˈæptʃɚɹ ˌɔn ɪts bɹˈɛst ænd bˈaʊndləs lˈɪbɚɾi ! ˈiːtʃ mˈæn ɪz mˈæstɚɹ ʌv hɪz kɹˈæft, ɪts ɡlˈiːmɪŋ sˈeɪlz ˈaʊt blˈoʊn. ænd fˈɑːɹ bᵻhˌaɪnd hˌɪm ɔnðə ʃˈɔːɹ ɐ hˈoʊm hiː kˈɔːlz hɪz ˈoʊn.