text_original: There, my love, are the matches; what you're grabbing at is my back hair." Taking a match from the box which she thrust into my hand, I tried to light it at the wrong end ; turning it round, a spark leaped into my eye. I dropped it, to rub my eye.
text_transcription: THERE MY LOVE ARE THE MATCHES WHAT YOU'RE GRABBING AT IS MY BACK HAIR TAKING A MATCH FROM THE BOX WHICH SHE THRUST INTO MY HAND I TRIED TO LIGHT IT AT THE WRONG END TURNING IT ROUND A SPARK LEAPED INTO MY EYES I DROPPED IT TO RUB MY EYE
phonemes: ðˈɛɹ, maɪ lˈʌv, ɑːɹ ðə mˈætʃᵻz; wˌʌt jʊɹ ɡɹˈæbɪŋ æɾ ɪz maɪ bˈæk hˈɛɹ." tˈeɪkɪŋ ɐ mˈætʃ fɹʌmðə bˈɑːks wˌɪtʃ ʃiː θɹˈʌst ˌɪntʊ maɪ hˈænd, aɪ tɹˈaɪd tə lˈaɪt ɪɾ æt ðə ɹˈɔŋ ˈɛnd ; tˈɜːnɪŋ ɪt ɹˈaʊnd, ɐ spˈɑːɹk lˈiːpt ˌɪntʊ maɪ ˈaɪ. aɪ dɹˈɑːpt ɪt, tə ɹˈʌb maɪ ˈaɪ.