text_original: No sooner was the Lark away, Than came the owner with his son. "The wheat is ripe," he said, "so run, And bring our friends at peep of day, Each with his sickle sharp and ready."
text_transcription: NO SOONER WAS THE LARK AWAY THAN CAME THE OWNER WITH HIS SON THE WHEAT IS RIPE HE SAID SO RUN AND BRING OUR FRIENDS AT PEEP OF DAY EACH WITH HIS SICKLE SHARP AND READY
phonemes: nˈoʊ sˈuːnɚ wʌzðə lˈɑːɹk ɐwˈeɪ, ðɐn kˈeɪm ðɪ ˈoʊnɚ wɪð hɪz sˈʌn. "ðə wˈiːt ɪz ɹˈaɪp," hiː sˈɛd, "sˌoʊ ɹˈʌn, ænd bɹˈɪŋ ˌaʊɚ fɹˈɛndz æt pˈiːp ʌv dˈeɪ, ˈiːtʃ wɪð hɪz sˈɪkəl ʃˈɑːɹp ænd ɹˈɛdi."