text_original: 'Tis the time o' the year I turn upon the height To watch from my harrow the dance of going light; And if before the sun be hid, come slowly up the vale Honora with her dimpled throat, Honora with her pail, Hey, but there's many a March for me, and many and many a lass! I fall to work and song again, and let Honora pass.
text_transcription: TIS THE TIME O THE YEAR I TURN UPON THE HEIGHT TO WATCH FROM MY HAIR O THE DANCE OF GO WING LIGHT AND IF BEFORE THIS SUN BE HID COME SLOWLY UP THE VALE NORAH WITH HER DIMPLED THROAT HUNG NORAH WITH HER PAIL HEY BUT THERE'S MANY MUCH FOR ME AND MANY AND MANY ALAS I FALL TO WORK AND SONG AGAIN AND LET ON AURORAH PASS
phonemes: tˈɪz ðə tˈaɪm ˈoʊ ðə jˈɪɹ aɪ tˈɜːn əpˌɑːn ðə hˈaɪt tə wˈɑːtʃ fɹʌm maɪ hˈæɹoʊ ðə dˈæns ʌv ɡˌoʊɪŋ lˈaɪt; ænd ɪf bᵻfˌɔːɹ ðə sˈʌn biː hˈɪd, kˈʌm slˈoʊli ˌʌp ðə vˈeɪl ˈɑːnɔːɹə wɪð hɜː dˈɪmpəld θɹˈoʊt, ˈɑːnɔːɹə wɪð hɜː pˈeɪl, hˈeɪ, bˌʌt ðɛɹz mˈɛni ɐ mˈɑːɹtʃ fɔːɹ mˌiː, ænd mˈɛni ænd mˈɛni ɐ lˈæs! aɪ fˈɔːl tə wˈɜːk ænd sˈɔŋ ɐɡˈɛn, ænd lˈɛt ˈɑːnɔːɹə pˈæs.