text_original: But the tiny ones, alas! What could be told them when their little world tumbled, when they were carried out from warmth and safety, when food was denied; when the bosoms that had warmed them grew cold and unresponsive, what could they do but suffer and die the slow, torturing death of hunger and cold?
text_transcription: BUT THE TINY ONES ALAS WHAT COULD BE TOLD THEM WHEN THEIR LITTLE WORLD TUMBLED WHEN THEY WERE CARRIED OUT FROM WARMTH AND SAFETY WHEN FOOD WAS DENIED WHEN THE BOSOMS THAT HAD WARMED THEM GREW COLD AND UNRESPONSIVE WHAT COULD THEY DO BUT SUFFER AND DIE THE SLOW TORTURING DEATH OF HUNGER AND COLD
phonemes: bˌʌt ðə tˈaɪni wˌʌnz, ɐlˈæs! wˌʌt kʊd biː tˈoʊld ðˌɛm wɛn ðɛɹ lˈɪɾəl wˈɜːld tˈʌmbəld, wˌɛn ðeɪ wɜː kˈæɹid ˈaʊt fɹʌm wˈɔːɹmθ ænd sˈeɪfti, wˌɛn fˈuːd wʌz dᵻnˈaɪd; wˌɛn ðə bˈʊzəmz ðæt hæd wˈɔːɹmd ðˌɛm ɡɹˈuː kˈoʊld ænd ˌʌnɹᵻspˈɑːnsɪv, wˌʌt kʊd ðeɪ dˈuː bˌʌt sˈʌfɚɹ ænd dˈaɪ ðə slˈoʊ, tˈɔːɹtʃɚɹɪŋ dˈɛθ ʌv hˈʌŋɡɚ ænd kˈoʊld?