text_original: EZEKIEL BIGELOW Thrash away, you'll _hev_ to rattle On them kittle drums o' yourn, 'Tain't a knowin' kind o' cattle Thet is ketched with moldy corn; Put in stiff, you fifer feller, Let folks see how spry you be   Guess you'll toot till you are yeller 'Fore you git a hold o' me!
text_transcription: OUR WAY YOU'LL HAVE TER RATTLE ON THEM KITTLE DRUMS O YOURN TAIN'T A KNOWING KIND O CATTLE THAT IS KETCHED WITH MOULDY CORN PUT IN STIFF YOU FITHER FELLER LET FOLK SEE HOW SPRY YOU BE GUESS YOU'LL TOOT TILL YOU ARE YELLER FORE YOU GIT A HOLD O ME
phonemes: ᵻzˈiːkiːəl bˈɪdʒɪlˌoʊ θɹˈæʃ ɐwˈeɪ, juːl hˈɛv tə ɹˈæɾəl ˌɔn ðˌɛm kˈɪɾəl dɹˈʌmz ˈoʊ jˈɔːɹn, tˈeɪnt ɐ nˈoʊɪn kˈaɪnd ˈoʊ kˈæɾəl θˈɛt ɪz kˈɛtʃt wɪð mˈoʊldi kˈɔːɹn; pˌʊt ɪn stˈɪf, juː fˈaɪfɚ fˈɛlɚ, lˈɛt fˈoʊks sˈiː hˌaʊ spɹˈaɪ juː biː ɡˈɛs juːl tˈuːt tˈɪl juː ɑːɹ jˈɛlɚ fˈɔːɹ juː ɡˈɪt ɐ hˈoʊld ˈoʊ mˌiː!