text_original: The old clock down in the parlor Like a sleepless mourner grieves, And the seconds drip in the silence As the rain drips from the eaves. And I think of the hands that signal The hours there in the gloom, And wonder what angel watchers Wait in the darkened room.
text_transcription: THE OLD CLOCK DOWN IN THE PARLOUR LIKE A SLEEPLESS MOURNER GRIEVES AND THE SECONDS DRIP IN THE SILENCE AS THE RAIN DRIPS FROM THE EAVES AND I THINK OF THE HANDS THAT SIGNAL THE HOURS THERE IN THE GLOOM AND WONDER WHAT ANGEL WATCHERS WAIT IN THE DARKENED ROOM
phonemes: ðɪ ˈoʊld klˈɑːk dˌaʊn ɪnðə pˈɑːɹlɚ lˈaɪk ɐ slˈiːpləs mˈɔːɹnɚ ɡɹˈiːvz, ænd ðə sˈɛkəndz dɹˈɪp ɪnðə sˈaɪləns æz ðə ɹˈeɪn dɹˈɪps fɹʌmðɪ ˈiːvz. ænd aɪ θˈɪŋk ʌvðə hˈændz ðæt sˈɪɡnəl ðɪ ˈaʊɚz ðɛɹ ɪnðə ɡlˈuːm, ænd wˈʌndɚ wʌt ˈeɪndʒəl wˈɑːtʃɚz wˈeɪt ɪnðə dˈɑːɹkənd ɹˈuːm.