text_original: And a smell of the clover growing In the meadow lands ripe for mowing, All red and white. Over the shady creek comes sailing, Past willows in the water trailing.
text_transcription: AND THE SMELL OF THE CLOVER GROWING IN THE MEADOW LANDS RIPE FOR MOWING ALL RED AND WHITE OVER THE SHADY CREEK COMES SAILING PAST WILLOWS IN THE WATER TRAILING
phonemes: ænd ɐ smˈɛl ʌvðə klˈoʊvɚ ɡɹˈoʊɪŋ ɪnðə mˈɛdoʊ lˈændz ɹˈaɪp fɔːɹ mˈoʊɪŋ, ˈɔːl ɹˈɛd ænd wˈaɪt. ˌoʊvɚ ðə ʃˈeɪdi kɹˈiːk kˈʌmz sˈeɪlɪŋ, pˈæst wˈɪloʊz ɪnðə wˈɔːɾɚ tɹˈeɪlɪŋ.