text_original: Away to the mountain glen! Where the warwhoop wild is yelling, And the savage howls As he darkly scowls On the white man's flame wrapped dwelling. There is life blood reeking there! Where our slaughtered friends are lying; Not boldly slain On the battle plain, But each by his hearth stone dying.
text_transcription: AWAY TO THE MOUNTAIN GLEN WHERE THE WAR WHOOP WILD IS YELLING AND THE SAVAGE HOWLS AS HE DARKLY SCOWLS ON THE WHITE MAN'S FLAME WRAPPED DWELLING THERE IS LIFE BLOOD REEKING THERE WHERE OUR SLAUGHTERED FRIENDS ARE LYING NOT BOLDLY SLAIN ON THE BATTLE PLAIN BUT EACH BY HIS HEARTHSTONE DYING
phonemes: ɐwˈeɪ tə ðə mˈaʊntɪn ɡlˈɛn! wˌɛɹ ðə wˈɔːɹwuːp wˈaɪld ɪz jˈɛlɪŋ, ænd ðə sˈævɪdʒ hˈaʊlz æz hiː dˈɑːɹkli skˈaʊlz ɔnðə wˈaɪt mˈænz flˈeɪm ɹˈæpt dwˈɛlɪŋ. ðɛɹ ɪz lˈaɪf blˈʌd ɹˈiːkɪŋ ðˈɛɹ! wˌɛɹ ˌaʊɚ slˈɔːɾɚd fɹˈɛndz ɑːɹ lˈaɪɪŋ; nˌɑːt bˈoʊldli slˈeɪn ɔnðə bˈæɾəl plˈeɪn, bˌʌt ˈiːtʃ baɪ hɪz hˈɑːɹθ stˈoʊn dˈaɪɪŋ.