text_original: If ever I'm a money'd man, I mean, please God, to cast My golden anchor in the place where youthful years were pass'd; Though heads that now are black and brown must meanwhile gather gray, New faces rise by every hearth, and old ones drop away   Yet dearer still that Irish hill than all the world beside; It's home, sweet home, where'er I roam through lands and waters wide.
text_transcription: IF EVER I AM A MONEYED MAN I MEAN PLEASE GOD TO CAST MY GOLDEN ANCHOR IN THE PLACE WHERE YOUTHFUL YEARS WERE PAST THOUGH HEADS THAT NOW ARE BLACK AND BROWN MUST MEANWHILE GATHER GREY NEW FACES RISE BY EVERY HEARTH AND OLD ONES DROP AWAY YET DEARER STILL THAT IRISH HILL THAN ALL THE WORLD BESIDE ITS HOME SWEET HOME WHEREVERVER I ROAM THROUGH LANDS AND WATERS WIDE
phonemes: ɪf ˈɛvɚɹ aɪm ɐ mˈʌnid mˈæn, aɪ mˈiːn, plˈiːz ɡˈɑːd, tə kˈæst maɪ ɡˈoʊldən ˈæŋkɚɹ ɪnðə plˈeɪs wˌɛɹ jˈuːθfəl jˈɪɹz wɜː pˈæsd; ðˌoʊ hˈɛdz ðæt nˈaʊ ɑːɹ blˈæk ænd bɹˈaʊn mˈʌst mˈiːnwaɪl ɡˈæðɚ ɡɹˈeɪ, nˈuː fˈeɪsᵻz ɹˈaɪz baɪ ˈɛvɹi hˈɑːɹθ, ænd ˈoʊld wˈʌnz dɹˈɑːp ɐwˈeɪ jˈɛt dˈɪɹɚ stˈɪl ðæt ˈaɪɹɪʃ hˈɪl ðɐn ˈɔːl ðə wˈɜːld bᵻsˈaɪd; ɪts hˈoʊm, swˈiːt hˈoʊm, wˈɛɹɚɹ aɪ ɹˈoʊm θɹuː lˈændz ænd wˈɔːɾɚz wˈaɪd.