text_original: And now, what woman's eyes would smile on me? I still am beautiful, and yet what child Would think of me as some high, heaven sent thing, An angel, clad in gold and miniver? The world would run from me, and yet am I No different from the queen they used to love.
text_transcription: AND NOW WHAT WOMAN'S EYES WOULD SMILE ON ME AS STILL AM BEAUTIFUL AND YET WHAT CHILD WOULD THINK OF ME AS SOME HIGH HEAVEN SENT THING AN ANGEL CLAD IN GOLDEN MINIVER THE WORLD WOULD RUN FROM ME AND YET AM I NO DIFFERENT FROM THE QUEEN THEY USED TO LOVE
phonemes: ænd nˈaʊ, wˌʌt wˈʊmənz ˈaɪz wʊd smˈaɪl ˈɔn mˌiː? aɪ stˈɪl æm bjˈuːɾifəl, ænd jˈɛt wʌt tʃˈaɪld wʊd θˈɪŋk ʌv mˌiː æz sˌʌm hˈaɪ, hˈɛvən sˈɛnt θˈɪŋ, ɐn ˈeɪndʒəl, klˈæd ɪn ɡˈoʊld ænd mˈɪnɪvɚ? ðə wˈɜːld wʊd ɹˈʌn fɹʌm mˌiː, ænd jˈɛt æm aɪ nˈoʊ dˈɪfɹənt fɹʌmðə kwˈiːn ðeɪ jˈuːzd tə lˈʌv.