text_original: You'll go to see the neighbours, child ; they're changed a bit, they say, An' hair that was as bright as mine is maybe turned to grey. But girshas will be grown like you, an' take you by the hand, For they'll be glad to see you cornin' back to the old land.
text_transcription: YOU GO TO SEE THE NEIGHBOURS CHILD THEY CHANGE THE BIT THEY SAY AND HARE THAT WAS AS BRIGHT AS MINE IS MAY BE TURNED TO GRAY BUT GERTIA'S WILL BE GROWN LIKE YOU AND TAKE YOU BY THE HAND FOR THEY'LL BE GLAD TO SEE YOU COMING BACK TO THE OLD LAND
phonemes: juːl ɡˌoʊ tə sˈiː ðə nˈeɪbɚz, tʃˈaɪld ; ðeɪɚ tʃˈeɪndʒd ɐ bˈɪt, ðeɪ sˈeɪ, æn hˈɛɹ ðæt wʌz æz bɹˈaɪt æz mˈaɪn ɪz mˈeɪbiː tˈɜːnd tə ɡɹˈeɪ. bˌʌt ɡˈɜːʃəz wɪl biː ɡɹˈoʊn lˈaɪk juː, æn tˈeɪk juː baɪ ðə hˈænd, fɔːɹ ðeɪl biː ɡlˈæd tə sˈiː juː kˈɔːɹnɪn bˈæk tə ðɪ ˈoʊld lˈænd.