text_original: So, not a home and ease for me   But still the homeless sea! Where I may swing my sorrow to sleep In a hammock hung o'er the voice of the waves, Where I may wake when the tempests heap And hurl their hate  and a brave ship saves. (I'm a longing for the sea!)
text_transcription: SO NOT A HOME AND EASE FOR ME BUT STILL THE HOMELESS SEA WHERE I MAY SWING MY SORROW TO SLEEP IN A HAMMOCK HUNG OVER THE VOICE OF THE WAVES WHERE I MAY WAKE WHEN THE TEMPEST HEAP AND HURL THEIR HATE AND THE BRAVE SHIP SAVES I AM A LONGING FOR THE SEA
phonemes: sˈoʊ, nˌɑːɾə hˈoʊm ænd ˈiːz fɔːɹ mˌiː bˌʌt stˈɪl ðə hˈoʊmləs sˈiː! wˌɛɹ aɪ mˈeɪ swˈɪŋ maɪ sˈɑːɹoʊ tə slˈiːp ɪn ɐ hˈæmək hˈʌŋ ˈɔːɹ ðə vˈɔɪs ʌvðə wˈeɪvz, wˌɛɹ aɪ mˈeɪ wˈeɪk wɛn ðə tˈɛmpɪsts hˈiːp ænd hˈɜːl ðɛɹ hˈeɪt ænd ɐ bɹˈeɪv ʃˈɪp sˈeɪvz. (aɪm ɐ lˈɔŋɪŋ fɚðə sˈiː!)