text_original: Maybe 'twas the scent of the flowers, That heavy with fragrance bloomed near, But I didn't feel natural for hours; It was odd now, wasn't it, dear? Write soon to your fortunate Clara, Who has carried the prize away, And say you'll come on when I marry,   I think it will happen in May.
text_transcription: MAYBE IT WAS THE SCENT OF THE FLOWERS THAT HEAVY WITH FRAGRANCE BLOOMED NEAR BUT I DIDN'T FEEL NATURAL FOR HOURS IT WAS ODD NOW WASN'T IT DEAR WRITE SOON TO YOUR FORTUNATE CLARA WHO HAS CARRIED THE PRIZE AWAY AND SAY YOU'LL COME ON WHEN I MARRY I THINK IT WILL HAPPEN IN MAY
phonemes: mˈeɪbiː twˈɑːz ðə sˈɛnt ʌvðə flˈaʊɚz, ðæt hˈɛvi wɪð fɹˈeɪɡɹəns blˈuːmd nˈɪɹ, bˌʌt aɪ dˈɪdnt fˈiːl nˈætʃɚɹəl fɔːɹ ˈaʊɚz; ɪt wʌz ˈɑːd nˈaʊ, wˈʌzn̩t ɪt, dˈɪɹ? ɹˈaɪt sˈuːn tə jʊɹ fˈɔːɹtʃənət klˈɑːɹɹə, hˌuː hɐz kˈæɹid ðə pɹˈaɪz ɐwˈeɪ, ænd sˈeɪ juːl kˈʌm ˌɔn wɛn aɪ mˈæɹi,   aɪ θˈɪŋk ɪt wɪl hˈæpən ɪn mˈeɪ.