text_original: 'Twas a quiet Sabbath morning; nature gave no sign of warning Of the struggle that would follow when we met the Briton's might; Of the horsemen fiercely spurring, of the bullets shrilly whirring, Of the bayonets brightly gleaming through the smoke that wrapped the fight; Of the cannon thunder pealing, and the wounded wretches reeling, And the corses gory red of the dead.
text_transcription: TWAS A QUIET SABBATH MORNING NATURE GAVE NO SIGN OF WARNING OF THE STRUGGLE THAT WOULD FOLLOW WHEN WE MET THE BRITON'S MIGHT OF THE HORSEMEN FIERCELY SPURRING OF THE BULLETS SHRILLY WHIRRING OF THE BAYONETS BRIGHTLY GLEAMING THROUGH THE SMOKE THAT WRAPPED THE FIGHT OF THE CANNON THUNDER PEALING AND THE WOUNDED WRETCHES REELING AND THE COURSES GORY RED OF THE DEAD
phonemes: twˈɑːz ɐ kwˈaɪət sˈæbəθ mˈɔːɹnɪŋ; nˈeɪtʃɚ ɡˈeɪv nˈoʊ sˈaɪn ʌv wˈɔːɹnɪŋ ʌvðə stɹˈʌɡəl ðæt wʊd fˈɑːloʊ wɛn wiː mˈɛt ðə bɹˈɪtənz mˈaɪt; ʌvðə hˈɔːɹsmɛn fˈɪɹsli spˈɜːɹɪŋ, ʌvðə bˈʊlɪts ʃɹˈɪlli wˈɜːɹɪŋ, ʌvðə bˈeɪənˌɛts bɹˈaɪtli ɡlˈiːmɪŋ θɹuː ðə smˈoʊk ðæt ɹˈæpt ðə fˈaɪt; ʌvðə kˈænən θˈʌndɚ pˈiːlɪŋ, ænd ðə wˈuːndᵻd ɹˈɛtʃᵻz ɹˈiːlɪŋ, ænd ðə kˈɔːɹsᵻz ɡˈɔːɹi ɹˈɛd ʌvðə dˈɛd.