text_original: IN THE DOCKS. Where the bales thunder till the day is done, And the wild sounds with wilder odours cope; Where over crouching sail and coiling rope, Lascar and Moor along the gangway run; Where stifled Thames spreads in the pallid sun, A hive of anarchy from slope to slope; Flag of my birth, my liberty, my hope, I see thee at the masthead, joyous one! O thou good guest!
text_transcription: IN THE DOCKS WHERE THE BALES THUNDER TILL THE DAY IS DONE AND THE WILD SOUNDS WITH WILDER ODORS COPE WHERE OVER CROUCHING SAIL AND COILING ROPE LASCA AND MOORE ALONG THE GANGWAY RUN WHERE STIFLED THAMES SPREADS IN THE PALLID SUN A HIVE OF ANARCHY FROM SLOPE TO SLOPE FLAG OF MY BIRTH MY LIBERTY MY HOPE I SEE THEE AT THE MAST HEAD JOYOUS ONE O THOU GOOD GUEST
phonemes: ɪnðə dˈɑːks. wˌɛɹ ðə bˈeɪlz θˈʌndɚ tˈɪl ðə dˈeɪ ɪz dˈʌn, ænd ðə wˈaɪld sˈaʊndz wɪð wˈaɪldɚɹ ˈoʊdɚz kˈoʊp; wˌɛɹ ˌoʊvɚ kɹˈaʊtʃɪŋ sˈeɪl ænd kˈɔɪlɪŋ ɹˈoʊp, lˈæskɑːɹ ænd mˈʊɹ ɐlˈɔŋ ðə ɡˈæŋweɪ ɹˈʌn; wˌɛɹ stˈaɪfəld tˈɛmz spɹˈɛdz ɪnðə pˈælɪd sˈʌn, ɐ hˈaɪv ʌv ˈænɑːɹki fɹʌm slˈoʊp tə slˈoʊp; flˈæɡ ʌv maɪ bˈɜːθ, maɪ lˈɪbɚɾi, maɪ hˈoʊp, aɪ sˈiː ðiː æt ðə mˈæsthɛd, dʒˈɔɪəs wˌʌn! ˈoʊ ðˈaʊ ɡˈʊd ɡˈɛst!