text_original: But ere the sun went toward the tardy night, The valley then beheld the light Of freedom's victory; And wooded Tryon snatched from British arms The empire of a million farms   On bright Oriskany.
text_transcription: BUT ERE THE SUN WENT DOWN TOWARD THE TARDY NIGHT THE VALLEY THEN BEHELD THE LIGHT OF FREEDOM'S VICTORY A WOODED TRION SNATCHED FROM BRITISH ARMS THE EMPIRE OF A MILLION FARMS ON BRIGHT ORISCONY
phonemes: bˌʌt ˈɛɹ ðə sˈʌn wɛnt təwˈɔːɹd ðə tˈɑːɹdi nˈaɪt, ðə vˈæli ðˈɛn bᵻhˈɛld ðə lˈaɪt ʌv fɹˈiːdəmz vˈɪktɚɹi; ænd wˈʊdᵻd tɹˈaɪɑːn snˈætʃt fɹʌm bɹˈɪɾɪʃ ˈɑːɹmz ðɪ ˈɛmpaɪɚɹ əvə mˈɪliən fˈɑːɹmz ˌɔn bɹˈaɪt ˈɔːɹɪskəni.