text_original: No sooner had the Lark o'erheard   "'Tis time to flit, my children; come," Cried out the very prudent bird. Little and big went fluttering, rising, Soaring in a way surprising, And left without a beat of drum.
text_transcription: NO SOONER HAD THE LARK OVERHEARD TIS TIME TO FLIT MY CHILDREN COME CRIED OUT THE VERY PRUDENT BIRD LITTLE AND BIG WENT FLUTTERING RISING SOARING IN A WAY SURPRISING AND LEFT WITHOUT A BEAT OF DRUM
phonemes: nˈoʊ sˈuːnɚ hæd ðə lˈɑːɹk ˈɔːɹhɜːd   "tˈɪz tˈaɪm tə flˈɪt, maɪ tʃˈɪldɹən; kˈʌm," kɹˈaɪd ˈaʊt ðə vˈɛɹi pɹˈuːdənt bˈɜːd. lˈɪɾəl ænd bˈɪɡ wɛnt flˈʌɾɚɹɪŋ, ɹˈaɪzɪŋ, sˈɔːɹɪŋ ɪn ɐ wˈeɪ sɚpɹˈaɪzɪŋ, ænd lˈɛft wɪðˌaʊt ɐ bˈiːt ʌv dɹˈʌm.