text_original: 14 When the dark comes down, oh, the children fall asleep, And mothers in the fisher huts their happy vigils keep ; There's music in the song they sing and music on the sea, The loving, lingering echoes of the twilight's litany, For toil has folded hands to dream, and care has ceased to frown.
text_transcription: WHEN THE DARK COMES DOWN OH THE CHILDREN FALL ASLEEP AND MOTHERS IN THE FISHING HUTS THEIR HAPPY VIGILS KEEP THERE'S MUSIC AND THE SONG THEY SING AND MUSIC ON THE SEA THE LOVING LINGERING ECHOES OF THE TWILIGHT SLITTINY FOR TOIL HIS FOLDED HANDS TO DREAM AND CARE HAS CEASED TO FROWN
phonemes: fˈɔːɹtiːn wɛn ðə dˈɑːɹk kˈʌmz dˈaʊn, ˈoʊ, ðə tʃˈɪldɹən fˈɔːl ɐslˈiːp, ænd mˈʌðɚz ɪnðə fˈɪʃɚ hˈʌts ðɛɹ hˈæpi vˈɪdʒɪlz kˈiːp ; ðɛɹz mjˈuːzɪk ɪnðə sˈɔŋ ðeɪ sˈɪŋ ænd mjˈuːzɪk ɔnðə sˈiː, ðə lˈʌvɪŋ, lˈɪŋɡɚɹɪŋ ˈɛkoʊz ʌvðə twˈaɪlaɪts lˈɪtəni, fɔːɹ tˈɔɪl hɐz fˈoʊldᵻd hˈændz tə dɹˈiːm, ænd kˈɛɹ hɐz sˈiːst tə fɹˈaʊn.