text_original: THE BATTLE OF MONMOUTH [June 28, 1778] Whilst in peaceful quarters lying We indulge the glass till late, Far remote the thought of dying, Hear, my friends, the soldier's fate: From the summer's sun hot beaming, Where yon dust e'en clouds the skies, To the plains where heroes bleeding, Shouts and dying groans arise. Halt! halt! halt!
text_transcription: THE BATTLE OF MONMOUTHS JUNE TWENTY EIGHTH SEVENTEEN SEVENTY EIGHT WHILST IN PEACEFUL QUARTERS LYING WE INDULGE THE GLASS TILL LATE FAR REMOTE THE THOUGHT OF DYING HEAR MY FRIENDS THE SOLDIER'S FATE FROM THE SUMMER SUN HOT BEAMING WHERE YON DUST E'EN CLOUDS THE SKY THE PLAINS WHERE HEROES BLEEDING SHOUTS AND DYING GROANS ARISE HALT HALT HALT
phonemes: ðə bˈæɾəl ʌv mˈɔnməθ [dʒˈuːn twˈɛnti ˈeɪt, wˈʌn θˈaʊzənd sˈɛvənhˈʌndɹɪd sˈɛvənti ˈeɪt] wˌaɪlst ɪn pˈiːsfəl kwˈɔːɹɾɚz lˈaɪɪŋ wiː ɪndˈʌldʒ ðə ɡlˈæs tˈɪl lˈeɪt, fˈɑːɹ ɹᵻmˈoʊt ðə θˈɔːt ʌv dˈaɪɪŋ, hˈɪɹ, maɪ fɹˈɛndz, ðə sˈoʊldʒɚz fˈeɪt: fɹʌmðə sˈʌmɚz sˈʌn hˈɑːt bˈiːmɪŋ, wˌɛɹ jˈɑːn dˈʌst ˈɛən klˈaʊdz ðə skˈaɪz, tə ðə plˈeɪnz wˌɛɹ hˈiəɹoʊz blˈiːdɪŋ, ʃˈaʊts ænd dˈaɪɪŋ ɡɹˈoʊnz ɚɹˈaɪz. hˈɔlt! hˈɔlt! hˈɔlt!