text_original: Lord of thy love and liberty, The blithest bird of merry May, Thou turnest thy bright eyes on me, That say as plain as eye can say   "Here sit we, here in the summer weather, I and my modest mate together; Whatever your wise thoughts may be, Under that gloomy old pine tree, We do not value them a feather."
text_transcription: LORD OF THY LOVE AND LIBERTY THE BLITHEST BIRD OF MERRY MAY THOU TURNEST THY BRIGHT EYES ON ME THAT SAY AS PLAIN AS I CAN SAY HERE SIT WE HERE IN THE SUMMER WEATHER I AND MY MODEST MATE TOGETHER WHATEVER YOUR WISE THOUGHTS MAY BE UNDER THAT GLOOMY OLD PINE TREE WE DO NOT VALUE THEM A FEATHER
phonemes: lˈɔːɹd ʌv ðˌaɪ lˈʌv ænd lˈɪbɚɾi, ðə blˈaɪðst bˈɜːd ʌv mˈɛɹi mˈeɪ, ðˈaʊ tˈɜːnɪst ðˌaɪ bɹˈaɪt ˈaɪz ˈɔn mˌiː, ðæt sˈeɪ æz plˈeɪn æz ˈaɪ kæn sˈeɪ   "hˈɪɹ sˈɪt wiː, hˈɪɹ ɪnðə sˈʌmɚ wˈɛðɚ, aɪ ænd maɪ mˈɑːdɪst mˈeɪt təɡˈɛðɚ; wʌtˈɛvɚ jʊɹ wˈaɪz θˈɔːts mˈeɪ bˈiː, ˌʌndɚ ðæt ɡlˈuːmi ˈoʊld pˈaɪn tɹˈiː, wiː duːnˌɑːt vˈæljuː ðˌɛm ɐ fˈɛðɚ."