text_original: The king is blind with gnashing his teeth, Change gilded scabbard to leather sheath: Though our arms are wet with the slanting rain, This is joy to ride to my love again: I laugh in his face when he bids me yield; Who knows one field from the other field, For the grey rain driveth all astray?
text_transcription: THE KING IS BLIND WITH GNASHING HIS TEETH CHANGE GILDED SCABBARD TO LEATHER SHEATH THOUGH OUR ARMS ARE WET WITH THE SLANTING RAIN THIS IS JOY TO RIDE TO MY LOVE AGAIN I LAUGH IN HIS FACE WHEN HE BIDS ME YIELD WHO KNOWS ONE FIELD FROM THE OTHER FIELD FOR THE GRAY RAIN DRIVETH ALL ASTRAY
phonemes: ðə kˈɪŋ ɪz blˈaɪnd wɪð nˈæʃɪŋ hɪz tˈiːθ, tʃˈeɪndʒ ɡˈɪldᵻd skˈæbɚd tə lˈɛðɚ ʃˈiːθ: ðˌoʊ ˌaʊɚɹ ˈɑːɹmz ɑːɹ wˈɛt wɪððə slˈæntɪŋ ɹˈeɪn, ðɪs ɪz dʒˈɔɪ tə ɹˈaɪd tə maɪ lˈʌv ɐɡˈɛn: aɪ lˈæf ɪn hɪz fˈeɪs wɛn hiː bˈɪdz mˌiː jˈiːld; hˌuː nˈoʊz wˈʌn fˈiːld fɹʌmðɪ ˈʌðɚ fˈiːld, fɚðə ɡɹˈeɪ ɹˈeɪn dɹˈaɪvəθ ˈɔːl ɐstɹˈeɪ?