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Speech to text fails at The Cremation of Sam McGee

Speech to text fails at The Cremation of Sam McGee published on No Comments on Speech to text fails at The Cremation of Sam McGee

Jill and I were reading poems into the default speech-to-text converter in my computer. It made the following hash of Robert Service’s Cremation of Sam McGee:

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men whom oil for gold;
The arctic trails have their secrets tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The northern lights have seen queer sites,
But the clearest and they ever did see was that night on the march of weight will barged
Eye cream they did say and mickey

own and now see and make the ad was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he Left his home in the cells to roll round of the poll, god only know
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like Isbell;
though he’d all friends say in his home leeway that “he does sooner living in hill.

On a Christmas day we were massing are way over the capital D. Dawson trail.
Top of your cold! Capital T through the park a’s fold its data like the driven a nail.
If our eyes we’d close, then the latches froze till sometimes we couldn’t see;
It wasn’t much fun, but the only one to winter was say a mickey.

And that very night, as we wait packed tight in a ropes beneath the snow, new line
in the dogs were fed, in the stars O’ER head We’re dancing heel and toe
He turns to me, and “capital Seatac,” senate seat, “I’ll cast in this trip, I’d guess;
And if I do, I’m asking you that you will to refuse my last request.”

The world he seemed so low that I couldn’t say no; then he says with a sort of Malone:
“ is that Kerr said cool, and it’s got right hold till I and shield and cleaned through two of the bone.
Yet taints mean dead – it’s my all full dread of the icy grade that pains; soul
Jill 5122 swear that, Val warfare, you’ll cremate my last wing names.”

And a panels a last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
and we started on – and at the streak of Don—But to god he walked a ghastly play all
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee –
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of sea and it may be.

There wasn’t a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horn were-driven.
With the corps half head that I couldn’t get read, because of a promise given;
It was lashed two of the sleigh, and it seemed to miss a: “you may tax Yorba Roland and brains,
And by due from message true, and it’s up to you to cremate those glass remains.”

Now a promise made is a debt on paid, and the trail has its own Mr. Knut code.
In the days to comment, though my wits were dumb In my heart how I cursed and that load.
In the long, long night, but alone firelight, while the huskies, round in arena,
How old out to their woes two of the homeless snows – I’ll guide! How I knew Loma De vaca!

And ever read day that quiet clay seemed too heavy and heavier grow;
And on high winds, though the dogs were spent and the Robb was getting low;
The trail was bad and I felt have mad but I swore I would not give an;
and on and off and stained to the heat full frame and if Harkey and we’ve a Korean.

Till I came to love the margin of late Labarge, and eight Daryl Et Tu their lady;
It was jammed in the ice, but I sought in a trice it was called the capital Alice capitol may.
I look at it, and I thought a bit and I would get my eye frozen Jama;
Van “here,” said I, we have a sudden cry, “is my crematorium.”

Some plants yet’t four from the cabin floor, and I let the boiler fire;
some coal I’ve found that was lying around, and I heaped
The fuel higher; the flames just sorta, and the furnace road – such a Belize you seldom see
Anaheim burrowed a whole in the glowing coal in iced often say and that guy.

Then I made a height, For I didn’t like to hear him say asshole snow;
And the heavens scowl will, and the huskies how old, and the way and two B and to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don’t know why I;
And the greasy smoke in an indy cloak when streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow by a wrestled with grisly for years;
but the stars came out and they danced the about ERE aga I ventured near
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: “I’ll just take a peek inside.
I guess he’s cut, and it’s time I a look”; E whips as then the door I opened wide.

And their SATs AM, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace grower!
And he wore a smile you could CA mile, and he said: “please close that door.
It’s fine in year, but I greatly fear you’ll let you know the cold and storm–
Since I left capital plum tree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.”

There are strange thing was Don
In the midnight sun Five of them men Home Oil for gold;
the arctic adults have their secret tales that would make your blood run cold;
The northern lights have seen queer site but the query as they ever did see
Was that night on the march of lake Labarge
I cremated see him on and that guy.

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