text_original: THE FAIREST LAND. 'Twas a bleak dull moor that stretched before The low stone porch of the cottage door, And standing there was youth and maid, He for long journeying seemed arrayed, And the sunset flamed in the burnished west, And a proud throb beat in the young man's breast, As he whispered, "Sweet, will you come to me In that fairer land beyond the sea?"
text_transcription: OT ORG BY BRUNO GOLUS TWAS A BLEAK DALMORE THAT STRETCHED BEFORE THE LOW STONE PORCH OF THE COTTAGE DOOR AND STANDING THERE WAS YOUTH AND MAID HE FOR LONG JOURNEYING SEEMED ARRAYED AND THE SUNSET FLAMED IN THE BURNISHED WEST AND A PROUD THROB BEAT IN THE YOUNG MAN'S BREAST AS HE WHISPERED SWEET WILL YOU COME TO ME IN THAT FAIRER LAND BEYOND THE SEA
phonemes: ðə fˈɛɹəst lˈænd. twˈɑːz ɐ blˈiːk dˈʌl mˈʊɹ ðæt stɹˈɛtʃt bᵻfˌɔːɹ ðə lˈoʊ stˈoʊn pˈɔːɹtʃ ʌvðə kˈɑːɾɪdʒ dˈɔːɹ, ænd stˈændɪŋ ðɛɹwˌʌz jˈuːθ ænd mˈeɪd, hiː fɔːɹ lˈɔŋ dʒˈɜːniɪŋ sˈiːmd ɚɹˈeɪd, ænd ðə sˈʌnsɛt flˈeɪmd ɪnðə bˈɜːnɪʃt wˈɛst, ænd ɐ pɹˈaʊd θɹˈɑːb bˈiːt ɪnðə jˈʌŋ mˈænz bɹˈɛst, æz hiː wˈɪspɚd, "swˈiːt, wɪl juː kˈʌm tə mˌiː ɪn ðæt fˈɛɹɚ lˈænd bᵻjˌɔnd ðə sˈiː?"