text_original: Quoth he, my guards are weary grown With footing country dances, They never at St. James's shone, At capers, kicks, or prances. Though men so gallant ne'er were seen, While sauntering on parade, sir, Or wriggling o'er the park's smooth green, Or at a masquerade, sir.
text_transcription: QUOTH HE MY GUARDS ARE WEARY GROWN WITH FOOTING COUNTRY DANCES THEY NEVER AT SAINT JAMES SHONE AT CAPER'S KICKS OR PRANCES THOUGH MEN SO GALLANT NE'ER WERE SEEN WHILE SAUNTERING ON PARADE SIR OR WRIGGLING O'ER THE PARK'S SMOOTH GREEN OR AT A MASQUERADE SIR
phonemes: kwˈoʊθ hiː, maɪ ɡˈɑːɹdz ɑːɹ wˈɪɹi ɡɹˈoʊn wɪð fˈʊɾɪŋ kˈʌntɹi dˈænsᵻz, ðeɪ nˈɛvɚɹ æt sənt. dʒˈeɪmzᵻz ʃˈɑːn, æt kˈeɪpɚz, kˈɪks, ɔːɹ pɹˈænsᵻz. ðˌoʊ mˈɛn sˌoʊ ɡˈælənt nˈɛɹ wɜː sˈiːn, wˌaɪl sˈɔːntɚɹɪŋ ˌɔn pɚɹˈeɪd, sˌɜː, ɔːɹ ɹˈɪɡlɪŋ ˈɔːɹ ðə pˈɑːɹks smˈuːð ɡɹˈiːn, ɔːɹ æɾə mˈæskɚɹˌeɪd, sˌɜː.