text_original: 48 SONNETS OF A BUDDING BARD THOUGHTS THOUGHT ON HEARIN* FOLKS FIND FAULT WITH THE WEATHER I LOVE cold winter weather with the snow A driftin on the walks I hast to clear, And frost a bitin nose and cheek and ear, With the thermometer "awav below.
text_transcription: MEN DREADFULLY REVOXED AT ORK BASONYA THOUGHTS THOUGHT ON HUMAN FOLKS FIND FAULT WITH THE WEATHER I LOVE COLD WINTER WEATHER WITH THE SNOW ADRIFTING ON THE WALKS I HAS TO CLEAR AND FROST BITING NOSE AND CHEEK AND EAR WITH THE THERMOMETER AWAY BELOW
phonemes: fˈɔːɹɾi ˈeɪt sˈɑːnɪts əvə bˈʌdɪŋ bˈɑːɹd θˈɔːts θˈɔːt ˌɔn hˈɪɹɪn ˈæstɚɹˌɪsk fˈoʊks fˈaɪnd fˈɔlt wɪððə wˈɛðɚɹ aɪ lˈʌv kˈoʊld wˈɪntɚ wˈɛðɚ wɪððə snˈoʊ ɐ dɹˈɪftɪn ɔnðə wˈɔːks aɪ hˈeɪst tə klˈɪɹ, ænd fɹˈɔst ɐ bˈɪtɪn nˈoʊz ænd tʃˈiːk ænd ˈɪɹ, wɪððə θɜːmˈɑːmɪɾɚ "ɐwˈæv bᵻlˈoʊ.