text_original: The nineteenth of September, The morning cool and clear, Brave Gates rode through our army, Each soldier's heart to cheer; "Burgoyne," he cried, "advances, But we will never fly; No  rather than surrender, We'll fight him till we die!"
text_transcription: THE NINETEENTH OF SEPTEMBER THE MORNING COOL AND CLEAR BRAVE GATES RODE THROUGH OUR ARMY EACH SOLDIER'S HEART TO CHEER BURGOING HE CRIED ADVANCES BUT WE WILL NEVER FLY NO RATHER THAN SURRENDER WE'LL FIGHT HIM TILL WE DIE
phonemes: ðə nˈaɪntiːnθ ʌv sɛptˈɛmbɚ, ðə mˈɔːɹnɪŋ kˈuːl ænd klˈɪɹ, bɹˈeɪv ɡˈeɪts ɹˈoʊd θɹuː ˌaʊɚɹ ˈɑːɹmi, ˈiːtʃ sˈoʊldʒɚz hˈɑːɹt tə tʃˈɪɹ; "bˈɜːɡɔɪn," hiː kɹˈaɪd, "ɐdvˈænsᵻz, bˌʌt wiː wɪl nˈɛvɚ flˈaɪ; nˈoʊ ɹˈæðɚ ðɐn sɚɹˈɛndɚ, wiːl fˈaɪt hˌɪm tˈɪl wiː dˈaɪ!"