text_original: But to our tale : Ae market night Tarn had got planted unco right, Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely; And at his elbow souter Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony.
text_transcription: BUT TO OUR TALE OUR MARKET NIGHT TOM HAD GOT PLANTED UNCLE RIGHT FAST BY AN INGLE BLEAZING FINELY WITH WEAMING SWATS THAT DRANK DIVINELY AND AT HIS ELBOW SOTERED JOHNNY HIS ANCIENT TRUSTY DROUGHTY CRONY
phonemes: bˌʌt tʊ ˌaʊɚ tˈeɪl : ˌeɪˈiː mˈɑːɹkɪt nˈaɪt tˈɑːɹn hæd ɡɑːt plˈæntᵻd ʌŋkˈoʊ ɹˈaɪt, fˈæst baɪ ɐn ɪŋɡlˈiː, blˈiːzɪŋ fˈaɪnli, wˈaɪ ɹˈiːmɪŋ swˈɑːts, ðæt dɹˈæŋk dᵻvˈaɪnli; ænd æt hɪz ˈɛlboʊ sˈaʊɾɚ dʒˈɑːni, hɪz ˈeɪntʃənt, tɹˈʌsti, dɹˈaʊθi kɹˈoʊni.