text_original: "Oh, nonsense!" says Mr. Dysart. "One would think we were having a French Revolution all over again in England. Don't you think," glancing severely at Joyce, who is giving way to unrestrained mirth, "that it is not only wrong, but dangerous, to implant such ideas about the English in the breasts of Irish children? There isn't a word of truth in it, Tommy." "There _is_!" says Monkton, junior, wagging his head indignantly. "Father _told_ me."
text_transcription: OH NONSENSE SAYS MISTER DESSART ONE WOULD THINK WE WERE HAVING A FRENCH REVOLUTION ALL OVER AGAIN IN ENGLAND DON'T YOU THINK GLANCING SEVERELY AT JOYCE WHO WAS GIVING WAY TO UNRESTRAINED MIRTH THAT IT IS NOT ONLY WRONG BUT DANGEROUS TO IMPLANT SUCH IDEAS ABOUT THE ENGLISH IN THE BREAST OF IRISH CHILDREN THERE ISN'T A WORD OF TRUTH IN IT TOMMY THERE IS SAYS MONK TO JUNIOR WAGGING HIS HEAD INDIGNANTLY FATHER TOLD ME
phonemes: "ˈoʊ, nˈɑːnsəns!" sˈɛz mˈɪstɚ. dˈaɪsɑːɹt. "wˈʌn wʊd θˈɪŋk wiː wɜː hˌævɪŋ ɐ fɹˈɛntʃ ɹˌɛvəlˈuːʃən ˈɔːl ˌoʊvɚɹ ɐɡˈɛn ɪn ˈɪŋɡlənd. dˈoʊnt juː θˈɪŋk," ɡlˈænsɪŋ sᵻvˈɪɹli æt dʒˈɔɪs, hˌuː ɪz ɡˈɪvɪŋ wˈeɪ tʊ ˌʌnɹᵻstɹˈeɪnd mˈɜːθ, "ðˌɐɾɪt ɪz nˌɑːt ˈoʊnli ɹˈɔŋ, bˌʌt dˈeɪndʒɚɹəs, tʊ ɪmplˈænt sˈʌtʃ aɪdˈiəz ɐbˌaʊt ðɪ ˈɪŋɡlɪʃ ɪnðə bɹˈɛsts ʌv ˈaɪɹɪʃ tʃˈɪldɹən? ðɛɹ ˌɪzənt ɐ wˈɜːd ʌv tɹˈuːθ ɪn ɪt, tˈɑːmi." "ðɛɹˈɪz!" sˈɛz mˈʌŋktən, dʒˈuːnjɚ, wˈæɡɪŋ hɪz hˈɛd ɪndˈɪɡnəntli. "fˈɑːðɚ tˈoʊld mˌiː."