text_original: The ankers brak, and the top masts lap, It was sic a deadly storm; And the waves cam' o'er the broken ship Till a' her sides were torn. *O where will I get a gude sailor, To take my helm in hand, Till I get up to the tall top mast; To see if I can spy land?'
text_transcription: THE ANCHORS BRACK AND THE TOPMASTS LAP IT WAS SUCH A DEADLY STORM AND THEIR WAVES CAME OVER THE BROKEN SHIP TILL OUR SIGHTS WERE TORN OH WHERE WILL I GET A GOOD SAILOR TO TAKE MY HELM IN HAND TILL I GET UP TO THE TALL TOPMAST TO SEE IF I CAN SPY LAND
phonemes: ðɪ ˈæŋkɚz bɹˈæk, ænd ðə tˈɑːp mˈæsts lˈæp, ɪt wʌz sˈɪk ɐ dˈɛdli stˈɔːɹm; ænd ðə wˈeɪvz kˈæm ˈɔːɹ ðə bɹˈoʊkən ʃˈɪp tˈɪl ɐ hɜː sˈaɪdz wɜː tˈɔːɹn. ˈæstɚɹˌɪsk ˈoʊ wˌɛɹ wɪl aɪ ɡɛt ɐ ɡjˈuːd sˈeɪlɚ, tə tˈeɪk maɪ hˈɛlm ɪn hˈænd, tˈɪl aɪ ɡɛt ˌʌp tə ðə tˈɔːl tˈɑːp mˈæst; tə sˈiː ɪf aɪ kæn spˈaɪ lˈænd?