text_original: I will paint yourself, rumseller, As you wait for that fair young boy, Just in the morning of manhood, A mother's pride and joy. He has no thought of stopping, But you greet him with a smile, And you seem so blithe and friendly, That he pauses to chat awhile.
text_transcription: I WILL PAINT YOURSELF RUM CELLLA AS YOU WAIT FOR THAT FAIR YOUNG BOY JUST IN THE MORNING OF MANHOOD A MOTHER'S PRIDE AND JOY HE HAS NO THOUGHT OF STOPPING BUT YOU GREET HIM WITH A SMILE AND YOU SEEM SO BLITHE AND FRIENDLY THAT HE PAUSES TO CHAT AWHILE
phonemes: aɪ wɪl pˈeɪnt jɔːɹsˈɛlf, ɹˈʌmsəlɚ, æz juː wˈeɪt fɔːɹ ðæt fˈɛɹ jˈʌŋ bˈɔɪ, dʒˈʌst ɪnðə mˈɔːɹnɪŋ ʌv mˈænhʊd, ɐ mˈʌðɚz pɹˈaɪd ænd dʒˈɔɪ. hiː hɐz nˈoʊ θˈɔːt ʌv stˈɑːpɪŋ, bˌʌt juː ɡɹˈiːt hˌɪm wɪð ɐ smˈaɪl, ænd juː sˈiːm sˌoʊ blˈaɪð ænd fɹˈɛndli, ðæt hiː pˈɔːzᵻz tə tʃˈæt ɐwˈaɪl.