text_original: A poor Woodcutter, covered with his load, Bent down with boughs and with a weary age, Groaning and stooping, made his sorrowing stage To reach his smoky cabin; on the road, Worn out with toil and pain, he seeks relief By resting for a while, to brood on grief.   What pleasure has he had since he was born? In this round world is there one more forlorn? Sometimes no bread, and never, never rest.
text_transcription: A POOR WOODCUTTER COVERED WITH HIS LOAD BENT DOWN WITH BOUGHS AND WITH A WEARY AGE GROANING AND STOOPING MADE HIS SORROWING STAGE TO REACH HIS SMOKY CABIN ON THE ROAD WORN OUT WITH TOIL AND PAIN HE SEEKS RELIEF BY RESTING FOR A WHILE TO BROOD ON GRIEF WHAT PLEASURE HAS HE HAD SINCE HE WAS BORN IN THIS ROUND WORLD IS THERE ONE MORE FORLORN SOMETIMES NO BREAD AND NEVER NEVER REST
phonemes: ɐ pˈʊɹ wˈʊdkʌɾɚ, kˈʌvɚd wɪð hɪz lˈoʊd, bˈɛnt dˌaʊn wɪð bˈaʊz ænd wɪð ɐ wˈɪɹi ˈeɪdʒ, ɡɹˈoʊnɪŋ ænd stˈuːpɪŋ, mˌeɪd hɪz sˈɑːɹoʊɪŋ stˈeɪdʒ tə ɹˈiːtʃ hɪz smˈoʊki kˈæbɪn; ɔnðə ɹˈoʊd, wˈɔːɹn ˈaʊt wɪð tˈɔɪl ænd pˈeɪn, hiː sˈiːks ɹᵻlˈiːf baɪ ɹˈɛstɪŋ fɚɹə wˈaɪl, tə bɹˈuːd ˌɔn ɡɹˈiːf.   wˌʌt plˈɛʒɚ hɐz hiː hæd sˈɪns hiː wʌz bˈɔːɹn? ɪn ðɪs ɹˈaʊnd wˈɜːld ɪz ðɛɹ wˈʌn mˈɔːɹ fˈɔːɹlɔːɹn? sˈʌmtaɪmz nˈoʊ bɹˈɛd, ænd nˈɛvɚ, nˈɛvɚ ɹˈɛst.