text_original: My one wee bud, but to grow so bravely Where the rushes rise from the moorland green, Where birds skim close o'er the grassy billows And the low breeze murmurs its plaint between. * * * * * My one wee song I sing in the even, When the home doth gather its loved ones close, And the world's afar and hearts grow nearer, And the jar of life sinks into repose.
text_transcription: MY ONE WEE BUD BUT TO GROW SO BRAVELY WHERE THE RUSHES RISE FROM THE MOL AND GREEN WHERE BIRDS SKIM CLOSE OVER THE GRASSY BILLOWS AND THE LOW BREEZE MURMURS ITS PLAINT BETWEEN MY ONE WEE SONG I SING IN THE EVEN WHEN THE HOME DOTH GATHER ITS LOVED ONE'S CLOTHES AND THE WORLDS AFAR AND HEARTS GROW NEARER AND THE JAR OF LIFE SINKS INTO REPOSE
phonemes: maɪ wˈʌn wˈiː bˈʌd, bˌʌt tə ɡɹˈoʊ sˌoʊ bɹˈeɪvli wˌɛɹ ðə ɹˈʌʃᵻz ɹˈaɪz fɹʌmðə mˈʊɹlənd ɡɹˈiːn, wˌɛɹ bˈɜːdz skˈɪm klˈoʊs ˈɔːɹ ðə ɡɹˈæsi bˈɪloʊz ænd ðə lˈoʊ bɹˈiːz mˈɜːmɚz ɪts plˈeɪnt bᵻtwˈiːn. ˈæstɚɹˌɪsk ˈæstɚɹˌɪsk ˈæstɚɹˌɪsk maɪ wˈʌn wˈiː sˈɔŋ aɪ sˈɪŋ ɪnðɪ ˈiːvən, wˌɛn ðə hˈoʊm dʌθ ɡˈæðɚɹ ɪts lˈʌvd wˈʌnz klˈoʊs, ænd ðə wˈɜːldz ɐfˈɑːɹ ænd hˈɑːɹts ɡɹˈoʊ nˈɪɹɚ, ænd ðə dʒˈɑːɹ ʌv lˈaɪf sˈɪŋks ˌɪntʊ ɹᵻpˈoʊz.