text_original: That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er laud and sea, Aud won Ids t thou hew it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke! Cut not its earth bound ties; O, spare that aged oak, Now towering to the skies!
text_transcription: THAT OLD FAMILIAR TREE WHOSE GLORY AND RENOWN ARE SPREAD OVER LAND AND SEA AND WOULDST THOU HEW IT DOWN WOODMAN FORBEAR THY STROKE CUT NOT ITS EARTH BOUND TIES O SPARE THAT AGED OAK NOW TOWERING TO THE SKIES
phonemes: ðæt ˈoʊld fəmˈɪlɪɹ tɹˈiː, hˌuːz ɡlˈɔːɹi ænd ɹᵻnˈaʊn ɑːɹ spɹˈɛd ˈɔːɹ lˈɔːd ænd sˈiː, ˈɔːd wˈʌn aɪdˈiːz tˈiː ðˈaʊ hjˈuː ɪt dˈaʊn? wˈʊdmən, fˈɔːɹbɛɹ ðˌaɪ stɹˈoʊk! kˈʌt nˌɑːt ɪts ˈɜːθ bˈaʊnd tˈaɪz; ˈoʊ, spˈɛɹ ðæt ˈeɪdʒd ˈoʊk, nˈaʊ tˈaʊɚɹɪŋ tə ðə skˈaɪz!