text_original: An' rint of Gurteen Clough. I wish the taties wouldn't fail, (It's rain that brings the rot !) For buyin' of the Indy male It swallys all we've got. Oh, whiles I climb the rock up there, An' look out on the sea, For there's a sailin' ship somewhere Will soon be gettin' me
text_transcription: AND REND OF CURTAIN CLOTH I WISH THE TATEIES WOULDN'T FAIL IT'S RAIN THAT BRINGS THE ROT FOR BUYING OF THE INDY MALE IT'S WALLY IS ALL WE'VE GOT OH WHILES I CLIMB THE ROCK UP THERE AND LOOK OUT ON THE SEA FOR THERE'S A SAILING SHIP SOMEWHERE WE'LL SOON BE GETTING ME
phonemes: æn ɹˈɪnt ʌv ɡˈɜːtiːn klˈʌf. aɪ wˈɪʃ ðə tˈeɪɾiz wˈʊdənt fˈeɪl, (ɪts ɹˈeɪn ðæt bɹˈɪŋz ðə ɹˈɑːt !) fɔːɹ bˈaɪɪn ʌvðɪ ˈɪndi mˈeɪl ɪt swˈɔːlɪz ˈɔːl wiːv ɡˈɑːt. ˈoʊ, wˌaɪlz aɪ klˈaɪm ðə ɹˈɑːk ˌʌp ðˈɛɹ, æn lˈʊk ˈaʊt ɔnðə sˈiː, fɔːɹ ðɛɹz ɐ sˈeɪlɪn ʃˈɪp sˈʌmwɛɹ wɪl sˈuːn biː ɡˈɛʔn mˌiː