text_original: Kindest of mothers, from whom I have strayed, Back again tired I come to thee, Chanting and crooning the old wave song, — Sing it, oh! sing it again to me ! Weary and spent, as the hour draws near, Hush me to sleep with that soft wave song ; Wash all the cares away, wash all the strifes away. All the old pains that to living belong.
text_transcription: KINDEST OF MOTHERS FROM WHOM I HAVE STRAYED BACK AGAIN TIRED I COME TO THEE CHANTING AND CROONING THE OLD WAVE SONG SING ITO SING IT AGAIN TO ME WEARY AND SPENT AS THE HOUR DRAWS NEAR HUSH ME TO SLEEP WITH THAT SOFT WAVE SONG WASH ALL THE CARES AWAY WASH ALL THE STRIFES AWAY ALL THE OLD PAINS THAT TO LIVING BELONG
phonemes: kˈaɪndɪst ʌv mˈʌðɚz, fɹʌm hˈuːm aɪ hæv stɹˈeɪd, bˈæk ɐɡˈɛn tˈaɪɚd aɪ kˈʌm tə ðˈiː, tʃˈæntɪŋ ænd kɹˈuːnɪŋ ðɪ ˈoʊld wˈeɪv sˈɔŋ, — sˈɪŋ ɪt, ˈoʊ! sˈɪŋ ɪɾ ɐɡˈɛn tə mˌiː ! wˈɪɹi ænd spˈɛnt, æz ðɪ ˈaʊɚ dɹˈɔːz nˈɪɹ, hˈʌʃ mˌiː tə slˈiːp wɪð ðæt sˈɔft wˈeɪv sˈɔŋ ; wˈɑːʃ ˈɔːl ðə kˈɛɹz ɐwˈeɪ, wˈɑːʃ ˈɔːl ðə stɹˈaɪfs ɐwˈeɪ. ˈɔːl ðɪ ˈoʊld pˈeɪnz ðæt tə lˈɪvɪŋ bᵻlˈɔŋ.