text_original: I've aboard a hundred messmates Better than these 'long shore knaves. There is wreckage on the shallows; It's the open sea that saves. Hark, lad, dost not hear it calling? That's the voice thy father knew, When he took the King's good cutlass In his grip, and fought it through.
text_transcription: I FORBORED A HUNDRED MESSMATES BETTER THAN THESE LONG SHORE KNAVES THERE IS WRECKAGE ON THE SHALLOWS IT'S THE OPEN SEA THAT SAVES HARK LET DOES NOT HEAR IT CALLING THAT STIR VOICE THY FATHER KNEW WHEN HE TOOK THE KING'S GOOD CUTLASS IN HIS GRIP AND FORD IT THROUGH
phonemes: aɪv ɐbˈɔːɹd ɐ hˈʌndɹɪd mˈɛsmeɪts bˈɛɾɚ ðɐn ðiːz lˈɔŋ ʃˈɔːɹ nˈeɪvz. ðɛɹ ɪz ɹˈɛkɪdʒ ɔnðə ʃˈæloʊz; ɪts ðɪ ˈoʊpən sˈiː ðæt sˈeɪvz. hˈɑːɹk, lˈæd, dˈɑːst nˌɑːt hˈɪɹ ɪt kˈɔːlɪŋ? ðæts ðə vˈɔɪs ðˌaɪ fˈɑːðɚ nˈuː, wˌɛn hiː tˈʊk ðə kˈɪŋz ɡˈʊd kˈʌtləs ɪn hɪz ɡɹˈɪp, ænd fˈɔːt ɪt θɹˈuː.