text_original: Ah, sure my lad is far away! My lad who left our glen When from the soul of Ireland came A call for fightin' men; I miss his gray eyes glancin' bright, I miss his liltin' song, And that is why, the lonesome day, I'm always thinkin' long.
text_transcription: AH SURE MY LAD IS FAR AWAY MY LAD WHO LEFT OUR GLEN WHEN FROM THE SOUL OF IRELAND CAME A CALL FOR FIGHTIN MAN I MISS HIS GRAY EYES GLANCING BRIGHT I MISS HIS LILTON'S SONG AND THAT IS WHY THE LONESOME DAY I'M ALWAYS THINKING LONG
phonemes: ˈɑː, ʃˈʊɹ maɪ lˈæd ɪz fˈɑːɹ ɐwˈeɪ! maɪ lˈæd hˌuː lˈɛft ˌaʊɚ ɡlˈɛn wɛn fɹʌmðə sˈoʊl ʌv ˈaɪɚlənd kˈeɪm ɐ kˈɔːl fɔːɹ fˈaɪtɪn mˈɛn; aɪ mˈɪs hɪz ɡɹˈeɪ ˈaɪz ɡlˈænsɪn bɹˈaɪt, aɪ mˈɪs hɪz lˈɪltɪn sˈɔŋ, ænd ðæt ɪz wˈaɪ, ðə lˈoʊnsʌm dˈeɪ, aɪm ˈɔːlweɪz θˈɪŋkɪn lˈɔŋ.