text_original: But when, in apron wrapped, the cask She backward bore, to close her task, The foemen saw her aim at last, And poured their fire upon her fast. Bullet on bullet near her fell, While rang the Indians' angry yell; But safely through that whirring rain, Powder in arms, came Betty Zane.
text_transcription: BUT WHEN IN APRON WRAPT THE CASK SHE BACKWARD BORE TO CLOSE HER TASK THE FOEMAN SAW HER AIM AT LAST AND POURED THEIR FIRE UPON HER FAST BULLET ON BULLET NEAR HER FELL WHILE RANG THE INDIAN'S ANGRY YELL BUT SAFELY THROUGH THAT WHIRRING RAIN POWDER IN ARMS CAME BETTY ZAIN
phonemes: bˌʌt wˈɛn, ɪn ˈeɪpɹən ɹˈæpt, ðə kˈæsk ʃiː bˈækwɚd bˈɔːɹ, tə klˈoʊz hɜː tˈæsk, ðə fˈoʊmɛn sˈɔː hɜːɹ ˈeɪm æt lˈæst, ænd pˈɔːɹd ðɛɹ fˈaɪɚɹ əpˌɑːn hɜː fˈæst. bˈʊlɪt ˌɔn bˈʊlɪt nˌɪɹ hɜː fˈɛl, wˌaɪl ɹˈæŋ ðɪ ˈɪndiənz ˈæŋɡɹi jˈɛl; bˌʌt sˈeɪfli θɹuː ðæt wˈɜːɹɪŋ ɹˈeɪn, pˈaʊdɚɹ ɪn ˈɑːɹmz, kˈeɪm bˈɛɾi zˈeɪn.