text_original: Ringing, Swinging, Dashing they go Over the crest of the beautiful snow: Snow so pure when it falls from the sky, To be trampled in mud by the crowd rushing by; To be trampled and tracked by the thousands of feet Till it blends with the horrible filth in the street.
text_transcription: RINGING SWINGING DASHING THEY GO OVER THE CREST OF THE BEAUTIFUL SNOW SNOW SO PURE WHEN IT FALLS FROM THE SKY TO BE TRAMPLED IN MUD BY THE CROWD RUSHING BY TO BE TRAMPLED AND CHECKED BY THE THOUSANDS OF FEET TILL IT BLENDS WITH THE HORRIBLE FILTH IN THE STREET
phonemes: ɹˈɪŋɪŋ, swˈɪŋɪŋ, dˈæʃɪŋ ðeɪ ɡˌoʊ ˌoʊvɚ ðə kɹˈɛst ʌvðə bjˈuːɾifəl snˈoʊ: snˈoʊ sˌoʊ pjˈʊɹ wɛn ɪt fˈɔːlz fɹʌmðə skˈaɪ, təbi tɹˈæmpəld ɪn mˈʌd baɪ ðə kɹˈaʊd ɹˈʌʃɪŋ bˈaɪ; təbi tɹˈæmpəld ænd tɹˈækt baɪ ðə θˈaʊzəndz ʌv fˈiːt tˈɪl ɪt blˈɛndz wɪððə hˈɔːɹɪbəl fˈɪlθ ɪnðə stɹˈiːt.