text_original: The top of the hill he will ne'er come nigh reaching Till he learns the distinctions 'twixt singing and preaching; His lyre has some chords that would ring pretty well, But he'd rather by half make a drum of the shell, And rattle away till he's old as Methusalem At the head of a march to the last New Jerusalem."
text_transcription: THE TOP OF THE HILL HE WILL NE'ER COME NIGH REACHING TILL HE LEARNS THE DISTINCTIONS TWIXT SINGING AND PREACHING HIS LIAR HAS SOME CHORDS THAT WOULD RING PRETTY WELL BUT HE'D RATHER BY HALF MAKE A DRUM OF THE SHELL AND RATTLE AWAY TILL HE'S OLD AS METHUSEALEM AT THE HEAD OF A MARCH TO THE LAST NEW JERUSALEM
phonemes: ðə tˈɑːp ʌvðə hˈɪl hiː wɪl nˈɛɹ kˈʌm nˈaɪ ɹˈiːtʃɪŋ tˈɪl hiː lˈɜːnz ðə dɪstˈɪŋkʃənz twˈɪkst sˈɪŋɪŋ ænd pɹˈiːtʃɪŋ; hɪz lˈaɪɚ hɐz sˌʌm kˈɔːɹdz ðæt wʊd ɹˈɪŋ pɹˈɪɾi wˈɛl, bˌʌt hiːd ɹˈæðɚ baɪ hˈæf mˌeɪk ɐ dɹˈʌm ʌvðə ʃˈɛl, ænd ɹˈæɾəl ɐwˈeɪ tˈɪl hiːz ˈoʊld æz mˈɛθjuːzˌeɪləm æt ðə hˈɛd əvə mˈɑːɹtʃ tə ðə lˈæst nˈuː dʒɚɹˈuːsələm."