text_original: _ _By Heaven!_ he thundered, _you'll live to regret_ Saint Leger, Saint Leger! He mounted his mortars, he smote with his shell, Saint Leger, Saint Leger; Then fumed in a fury that futile they fell; But he counselled with rum till he chuckled, elate, As he sat in his tent door, _Egad, we can wait, For famine is famous to open a gate_!
text_transcription: BY HEAVEN HE THUNDERED YOU'LL LIVE TO REGRET SAINT LEGER SAINT LE JER HE MOUNTED HIS MORTARS HE SMOTE WITH HIS SHELL SAINT LEGER SAINT LEGER THEN FUMED IN A FURRY THAT FUTILE THEY FELL BUT HE COUNSELLED WITH RUM TILL HE CHUCKLED ELATE AS HE SAT IN HIS TENT DOOR E GAD WE CAN WAIT FOR FAMINE IS FAMOUS TO OPEN A GATE
phonemes: baɪ hˈɛvən!hiː θˈʌndɚd, juːl lˈɪv tə ɹᵻɡɹˈɛt sˈeɪnt lˈɛdʒɚ, sˈeɪnt lˈɛdʒɚ! hiː mˈaʊntᵻd hɪz mˈɔːɹɾɚz, hiː smˈoʊt wɪð hɪz ʃˈɛl, sˈeɪnt lˈɛdʒɚ, sˈeɪnt lˈɛdʒɚ; ðˈɛn fjˈuːmd ɪn ɐ fjˈʊɹɹi ðæt fjˈuːɾəl ðeɪ fˈɛl; bˌʌt hiː kˈaʊnsɛld wɪð ɹˈʌm tˈɪl hiː tʃˈʌkəld, ᵻlˈeɪt, æz hiː sˈæt ɪn hɪz tˈɛnt dˈɔːɹ, ˈɛɡæd, wiː kæn wˈeɪt, fɔːɹ fˈæmɪn ɪz fˈeɪməs tʊ ˈoʊpən ɐ ɡˈeɪt!