text_original: Adieu, adieu, my loving friends, my glass is almost run, On Monday next will be my last, when I am to be hang'd; So you, young men, who do pass by, with pity look on me, For murdering Maria Marten, I was hang'd upon the tree.
text_transcription: ADIEU ADIEU MY LOVING FRIENDS MY GLASS IS ALMOST RUN ON MONDAY NEXT WILL BE MY LAST WHEN I AM TO BE HANGED SO YOU YOUNG MEN WHO DO PASS BY WITH PITY LOOK ON ME FOR MURDERING MARIA MARTIN I WAS HANGED UPON THE TREE
phonemes: ɐdjˈuː, ɐdjˈuː, maɪ lˈʌvɪŋ fɹˈɛndz, maɪ ɡlˈæs ɪz ˈɔːlmoʊst ɹˈʌn, ˌɔn mˈʌndeɪ nˈɛkst wɪl biː maɪ lˈæst, wˌɛn aɪɐm təbi hˈæŋd; sˈoʊ juː, jˈʌŋ mˈɛn, hˌuː dˈuː pˈæs bˈaɪ, wɪð pˈɪɾi lˈʊk ˈɔn mˌiː, fɔːɹ mˈɜːdɚɹɪŋ mɚɹˈiːə mˈɑːɹʔn̩, aɪ wʌz hˈæŋd əpˌɑːn ðə tɹˈiː.