text_original: From east and west, from north and south they come, At call of bugle and at roll of drum. Their rifles rain hot hail upon the foe, Who flee from danger in death's jaws to go. The Indians fight like maddened bulls at bay, And dying shriek and groan, wound the young ear of day.
text_transcription: FROM EAST AND WEST FROM NORTH AND SOUTH THEY COME AT CALL OF BUGLE AND THAT ROLL OF DRUM THEIR RIFLES REIGN HOT HAIL UPON THE FOE WHO FLEE FROM DANGER IN THEIR JAWS TO GO THE INDIANS FIGHT LIKE MADDENED BULLS AT BAY AND DYING SHRIEK AND GROAN WOUND THE YOUNG EAR OF THE DAY
phonemes: fɹʌm ˈiːst ænd wˈɛst, fɹʌm nˈɔːɹθ ænd sˈaʊθ ðeɪ kˈʌm, æt kˈɔːl ʌv bjˈuːɡəl ænd æt ɹˈoʊl ʌv dɹˈʌm. ðɛɹ ɹˈaɪfəlz ɹˈeɪn hˈɑːt hˈeɪl əpˌɑːn ðə fˈoʊ, hˌuː flˈiː fɹʌm dˈeɪndʒɚɹ ɪn dˈɛθz dʒˈɔːz tə ɡˈoʊ. ðɪ ˈɪndiənz fˈaɪt lˈaɪk mˈædənd bˈʊlz æt bˈeɪ, ænd dˈaɪɪŋ ʃɹˈiːk ænd ɡɹˈoʊn, wˈuːnd ðə jˈʌŋ ˈɪɹ ʌv dˈeɪ.