text_original: The girl she was had hair like gold, an' a curl in it, an' her eyes They had the sort o' colour that's like bits of Irish skies. You're laughin' at me, honey, but I'm grown so old y' see I might be let to talk about the girl that once was me
text_transcription: THE GIRL SHE WAS HAD HAIR LIKE GOLD AND A CURL IN IT AND HER EYES THEY HAD THE SORT OF COLORDETS LIKE BITS OF IRISH SKIES YOU'RE LAUGHING AT ME HONEY BUT I'M GROWN SO OLD YE SEE I MIGHT BE LED TO TALK ABOUT THE GIRL THAT ONCE WAS ME
phonemes: ðə ɡˈɜːl ʃiː wʌz hæd hˈɛɹ lˈaɪk ɡˈoʊld, æn ɐ kˈɜːl ɪn ɪt, æn hɜːɹ ˈaɪz ðeɪ hæd ðə sˈɔːɹt ˈoʊ kˈʌlɚ ðæts lˈaɪk bˈɪts ʌv ˈaɪɹɪʃ skˈaɪz. jʊɹ lˈæfɪn æt mˌiː, hˈʌni, bˌʌt aɪm ɡɹˈoʊn sˌoʊ ˈoʊld wˈaɪ sˈiː aɪ mˌaɪt biː lˈɛt tə tˈɔːk ɐbˌaʊt ðə ɡˈɜːl ðæt wˈʌns wʌz mˌiː