text_original: And grim death," he jerked the words out harshly, "is like to be the end of it, here in this old shack that's not fit to winter hogs in, let alone humans. There's not wood enough cut to last a week. You'll freeze, Nan, you and the baby, and I'm  just nothing."
text_transcription: AND GRIM DEATH HE JERKED THE WORDS OUT HARSHLY IS LIKE TO BE THE END OF IT HERE IN THIS OLD SHACK THAT'S NOT FIT TO WIN HER HOGS IN LET ALONE HUMANS THERE'S NOT WOOD ENOUGH TO CUT UP TO LAST A WEEK YOU'LL FREEZE NAN YOU AND THE BABY AND I'M JUST NOTHING
phonemes: ænd ɡɹˈɪm dˈɛθ," hiː dʒˈɜːkt ðə wˈɜːdz ˈaʊt hˈɑːɹʃli, "ɪz lˈaɪk təbi ðɪ ˈɛnd ʌv ɪt, hˈɪɹ ɪn ðɪs ˈoʊld ʃˈæk ðæts nˌɑːt fˈɪt tə wˈɪntɚ hˈɑːɡz ˈɪn, lˈɛt ɐlˈoʊn hjˈuːmənz. ðɛɹz nˌɑːt wˈʊd ɪnˈʌf kˈʌt tə lˈæst ɐ wˈiːk. juːl fɹˈiːz, nˈæn, juː ænd ðə bˈeɪbi, ænd aɪm dʒˈʌst nˈʌθɪŋ."