text_original: And when years are gone and strength is outworn, And never a crust the good chance sends, I shall curl me to sleep where the grasses grow^ deep. And say good bye to the old time friends. lis MIGHT HAVE BEEN.
text_transcription: WHEN THE YEARS ARE GONE AND STRENGTH IS OUTWORN AND NEVER A CRUST THE GOOD CHANCE SENDS I SHALL CURL ME TO SLEEP WHERE THE GRASSES GROW DEEP AND SAY GOOD BY TO THE OLD TIME FRIENDS MIGHT HAVE BEEN
phonemes: ænd wɛn jˈɪɹz ɑːɹ ɡɔn ænd stɹˈɛŋθ ɪz aʊtwˈɔːɹn, ænd nˈɛvɚɹ ɐ kɹˈʌst ðə ɡˈʊd tʃˈæns sˈɛndz, aɪʃˌɐl kˈɜːl mˌiː tə slˈiːp wˌɛɹ ðə ɡɹˈæsᵻz ɡɹˈoʊ dˈiːp. ænd sˈeɪ ɡˈʊd bˈaɪ tə ðɪ ˈoʊld tˈaɪm fɹˈɛndz. lˈɪs mˌaɪthɐv bˌɪn.