text_original: The Cockney lads are fond of fun, When on the downs are strolling, And down the hill in the afternoon The lasses will be rolling. Blow the trumpet, beat the drum, Away with melancholy, Shoulder arms and fire the guns, Let every one be jolly.
text_transcription: THE COCKNEY LADS ARE FOND O FUN WHEN ON THE DOWNS ARE STROLLING AND DOWN THE HILL IN THE AFTERNOON THE LASSES WILL BE ROLLING BLOW THE TRUMPET BEAT THE DRUM AWAY WITH MELANCHOLY SHOULDER ARMS AND FIRE THE GUNS LET EVERYONE BE JOLLY
phonemes: ðə kˈɑːkni lˈædz ɑːɹ fˈɑːnd ʌv fˈʌn, wˌɛn ɔnðə dˈaʊnz ɑːɹ stɹˈoʊlɪŋ, ænd dˌaʊn ðə hˈɪl ɪnðɪ ˌæftɚnˈuːn ðə lˈæsᵻz wɪl biː ɹˈoʊlɪŋ. blˈoʊ ðə tɹˈʌmpɪt, bˈiːt ðə dɹˈʌm, ɐwˈeɪ wɪð mˈɛləŋkˌɑːli, ʃˈoʊldɚɹ ˈɑːɹmz ænd fˈaɪɚ ðə ɡˈʌnz, lˈɛt ˈɛvɹi wˈʌn biː dʒˈɑːli.