text_original: Fain would I weave into light tripping rhyme The frolicsome joys of the good olden time, Ere our evergreen forests and still wilds were scared By the ear piercing screech of the Railway Dragon And a thousand long miles were triumphantly dared 'Neath the cosy white tent of a good Ox wagon How jocund the shout of the old driver, Jan, With his grimy felt hat, and his jacket of tan.
text_transcription: FAIN WOULD I WEAVE INTO LIGHT TRIPPING RIME THE FROLICSOME JOYS OF THE GOOD OLDEN TIME ERE OUR EVERGREEN FORESTS AND STILL WILDS WERE SCARED BY THE EAR PIERCING SCREECH OF THE RAILWAY DRAGON AND A THOUSAND LONG MILES WERE TRIUMPHANTLY DARED NEATH THE COSY WHITE TENT OF A GOOD OX WAGON HOW JOCUND THE SHOUT OF THE OLD DRIVER JAN WITH HIS GRIMY FELT HEAD AND HIS JACKET OF TEN
phonemes: fˈeɪn wʊd aɪ wˈiːv ˌɪntʊ lˈaɪt tɹˈɪpɪŋ ɹˈaɪm ðə fɹˈɑːlɪksˌʌm dʒˈɔɪz ʌvðə ɡˈʊd ˈoʊldən tˈaɪm, ˈɛɹ ˌaʊɚɹ ˈɛvɚɡɹˌiːn fˈɔːɹɪsts ænd stˈɪl wˈaɪldz wɜː skˈɛɹd baɪ ðɪ ˈɪɹ pˈɪɹsɪŋ skɹˈiːtʃ ʌvðə ɹˈeɪlweɪ dɹˈæɡən ænd ɐ θˈaʊzənd lˈɔŋ mˈaɪlz wɜː tɹaɪˈʌmfəntli dˈɛɹd nˈiːθ ðə kˈoʊzi wˈaɪt tˈɛnt əvə ɡˈʊd ˈɑːks wˈæɡən hˌaʊ dʒˈɑːkʌnd ðə ʃˈaʊt ʌvðɪ ˈoʊld dɹˈaɪvɚ, dʒˈæn, wɪð hɪz ɡɹˈaɪmi fˈɛlt hˈæt, ænd hɪz dʒˈækɪt ʌv tˈæn.