text_original: Mix'd brown and blue each visage grew, Just like a pullet's gizzard; Meanwhile the captain's wandering wit, From tacking like an izzard, Bore down in this plain course at last, "It's Michael Scott  the Wizard!"
text_transcription: MIXED BROWN AND BLUE EACH VISAGE GREW JUST LIKE A PULLET'S GIZZARD MEANWHILE THE CAPTAIN'S WANDERING WIT FROM TACKING LIKE AN ISARD BORE DOWN IN THIS PLAIN COURSE AT LAST IT'S MICHAEL SCOTT THE WIZARD
phonemes: mˈɪksd bɹˈaʊn ænd blˈuː ˈiːtʃ vˈɪzɪdʒ ɡɹˈuː, dʒˈʌst lˈaɪk ɐ pˈʊlɪts ɡˈɪzɚd; mˈiːnwaɪl ðə kˈæptɪnz wˈɔndɚɹɪŋ wˈɪt, fɹʌm tˈækɪŋ lˈaɪk ɐn ˈɪzɚd, bˈɔːɹ dˌaʊn ɪn ðɪs plˈeɪn kˈɔːɹs æt lˈæst, "ɪts mˈaɪkəl skˈɑːt ðə wˈɪzɚd!"