text_original: Noel ! Noel J Sweet breathed oxen, In the farm yard close, Lift their horned heads to listen, Startled from repose ; Then they sleep as slept the white flocks On Judea's hills, While again the olden glory Earth with rapture fills.
text_transcription: NOEL NOEL SWEET BREATHED OXEN IN THE FARM YARD CLOSE LIFT THEIR HORNED HEADS TO LISTEN STARTLED FROM REPOSE THEN THEY SLEEP AS SLEP THE WHITE FLOCKS ON JIDIA'S HILLS WHILE AGAIN THE OLDEN GLORY EARTH WITH RUPTURE FILLS
phonemes: nˈoʊl ! nˈoʊl dʒˈeɪ swˈiːt bɹˈiːðd ˈɑːksən, ɪnðə fˈɑːɹm jˈɑːɹd klˈoʊs, lˈɪft ðɛɹ hˈɔːɹnd hˈɛdz tə lˈɪsən, stˈɑːɹɾəld fɹʌm ɹᵻpˈoʊz ; ðˈɛn ðeɪ slˈiːp æz slˈɛpt ðə wˈaɪt flˈɑːks ˌɔn dʒˈuːdiəz hˈɪlz, wˌaɪl ɐɡˈɛn ðɪ ˈoʊldən ɡlˈɔːɹi ˈɜːθ wɪð ɹˈæptʃɚ fˈɪlz.