text_original: O musha, yis, I'm always dhrowned ; But little matther, so — When wrack is spread out on the ground To make the taties grow ! It's me that always does be sint Goin' foreign every year ; For still we have to pay the rint, An' clay is awful dear ! It's me that picks the hops that grows In lan' that's not like ours ; Where cruel storrums never blows, And rains is only showers.
text_transcription: OH MUSHA YES I'M ALWAYS DROWNED BUT LITTLE MATTERS SO WHEN WRECK IS SPREAD OUT ON THE GROUND TO MAKE THE TATEIES GROW IT'S ME THAT ALWAYS DOES BE SENT GOING FOREIGN EVERY YEAR FOR STILL WE HAVE TO PAY THE WIND AND PLAYS AWFUL DEER IT'S ME THAT PICKS THE HOPS THAT GROWS IN LAND THAT'S NOT LIKE OURS WHERE CRUEL STORMS NEVER BLOWS AND RAINS IS ONLY SHOWERS
phonemes: ˈoʊ mˈʌʃə, jiz, aɪm ˈɔːlweɪz dɹˈoʊnd ; bˌʌt lˈɪɾəl mˈætðɚ, sˈoʊ — wˌɛn ɹˈæk ɪz spɹˈɛd ˈaʊt ɔnðə ɡɹˈaʊnd tə mˌeɪk ðə tˈeɪɾiz ɡɹˈoʊ ! ɪts mˌiː ðæt ˈɔːlweɪz dˈʌz biː sˈɪnt ɡˌoʊɪn fˈɔːɹən ˈɛvɹi jˈɪɹ ; fɔːɹ stˈɪl wiː hæv tə pˈeɪ ðə ɹˈɪnt, æn klˈeɪ ɪz ˈɔːfəl dˈɪɹ ! ɪts mˌiː ðæt pˈɪks ðə hˈɑːps ðæt ɡɹˈoʊz ɪn lˈæn ðæts nˌɑːt lˈaɪk aʊɚz ; wˌɛɹ kɹˈuːəl stˈɔɹəmz nˈɛvɚ blˈoʊz, ænd ɹˈeɪnz ɪz ˈoʊnli ʃˈaʊɚz.