text_original: No blotted page dared meet his eye; The owner quaked and wished to die, When rod in hand, with wrath strode by   Old Daddy Hight. He helped them up the thorny steep Of wisdom's path with pain to creep, With vigilance that might not sleep   Old Daddy Hight.
text_transcription: NO BLOTTED PAGE DARED MEET HIS EYE THE OWNER QUAKED AND WISHED TO DIE WHEN ROD IN HAND WITH WRATH STRODE BY OLD DADDY HYTE HE HELPED THEM UP THE THORNY STEEP OF WISDOM'S PATH WITH PAIN TO CREEP WITH VIGILANCE THAT MIGHT NOT SLEEP OLD DADDY HYTE
phonemes: nˈoʊ blˈɑːɾᵻd pˈeɪdʒ dˈɛɹd mˈiːt hɪz ˈaɪ; ðɪ ˈoʊnɚ kwˈeɪkt ænd wˈɪʃt tə dˈaɪ, wˌɛn ɹˈɑːd ɪn hˈænd, wɪð ɹˈæθ stɹˈoʊd baɪ ˈoʊld dˈædi hˈaɪt. hiː hˈɛlpt ðˌɛm ˌʌp ðə θˈɔːɹni stˈiːp ʌv wˈɪzdəmz pˈæθ wɪð pˈeɪn tə kɹˈiːp, wɪð vˈɪdʒɪləns ðæt mˌaɪt nˌɑːt slˈiːp ˈoʊld dˈædi hˈaɪt.