English with several voices appropriate to the children's book.
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
British (General) North American (General) North American (US West Coast - California, Portland) Scottish (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
little Jordan's raised muddy spud by gris, grimly. Read by jeremy. Finn. The farmlands were cruel and plagued with a drought. The ground was stone cold, and the sun never came out. A family of three sat still at their table. They had rats in their floors and bats in their gable. Their cupboards were empty, and they had no heat. Their harvest had withered, and so had their meat. All that they had was a large lumpy spud that they'd found in the field, all covered with mud. Little Jordan's Ray was a scrawny young lad at the age of nine. He worked hard for his dad. It's up to you, son to bring home the pay. I trust you'll do well on this october day. Take this spud to the village and barter it off, except the best offer, and don't be too soft. His dear sweet mum, with her worried caress, expressed to her son her concerns and distress. Don't diddle datil as you go on your way. Don't talk to strangers and be back today. Little Jordan's Ray went away with the spud in a sack. You can trust me, he said. I'll hurry back. He hiked along down dusty rock trails through dry, barren pastures and over steep hills. He reached a stone wall with a peasant beneath who was missing his legs and most of his teeth. His voice was gruff and came out with a croak, but nevertheless he eventually spoke. Excuse me, lad. Can you spare me a pound or maybe a shilling, if one can be found. Little Jordan's Ray was bright, but a little too kind. His charity would often cloud up his mind. He turned to the man and let out a sigh. I'm sorry, sir, I will not tell a lie. All I have is a spud in the sack on my back. Shillings and pounds are something. I lack. My apologies, lad, but I have no need for a spud. Just a single spud, all covered with mud. But one thing I can use is Sergeant jock socks. These mystical socks can make the lame walk. 10 zillion fairies gave up their own hair to be woven together to make this rare pair a mad hair. Where's the pair of stockings this day? I believe he lives on devil's bao bei. I can't go myself, for I am too weak. But if you bring me the socks I'll grant what ye seek! Little Jordan's Ray! Pondered this thought with a hunch, I could fetch him his socks and get back by lunch. If I trade off the spud I won't have it to sell. But if the man tells the truth he'll pay me quite well. The man said he would give me a price. That is right. If I then hurry home. I'll get there tonight. He agreed with the man to go find the hair. He gave him his word, and made a pinky swear little Jordan's race set off to devil's bao bei to retrieve Sergeant jock socks on this october day. The distance was long, but covered in short. The hair was having brunch in a little wood fort. Can I offer you a wonderful Wesbury tort? Or maybe a chocolate covered toad wart? Said the mad hair, wearing the rare socks. Thank you. Mr hair. But my business is short. I have no time to eat a single sweet tort I have here a mud covered spud from the Range and all that, I ask, is your socks In exchange? My apologies, lad, but I have no need for a spud. Just a single spud, all covered with mud. But one thing I can use is this big blue balloon. It defies gravity because it was made by the moon. My ears are too long, and they drag on the floor but tied to the balloon? They'll soar evermore. It's tied to the wrist of a grumpy old troll who lives on the coast in a dumpy old hole. He feeds on rabbits, and I think I am one. But if you bring me the balloon, our deal will be done. Little Jordyn Rae took off with no delay to retrieve the big blue balloon on this october day he found the troll in his hole by the coast. He was beginning his lunch with a customary toast. What was you lingering during my toast? Do you smell the aroma of rabbit rump roast scolded the grumpy old troll, holding the balloon. I'm sorry. Mr troll. I don't mean to pry, but I noticed your balloon, as I have to pass by. I have here a mud covered spud from the Range, and all that, I ask, Is your balloon. In exchange. My apologies, lad, but I have no need for a spud. Just a single spot, all covered with mud. But one thing I can use is triton is pearl teeth. An oyster now has them in the sea, beneath the teeth that I have a rotted clear through it makes rabbit rump roast a challenge to chew. Now you can take my boat and sail out to the sun. A Ray of light will then point out the one. I would get it myself only. I fear the sea, but if you bring me the teeth, you can trade with me! Little Jordan's Ray sailed towards the Lights Ray to retrieve triton Is pearl teeth. On this october day? The sun beam trickled down to an oyster underneath. He was having his tea with his pearly pearl teeth. Who calls the sun to shoot light in my eyes! What a rude interruption as I eat! Crawfish pies! The oyster replied, squinting his eyes as he cried. I'm sorry to disturb you as you snap at your snack, but I bring you a gift in the sack on my back. I have here a mud covered spud from the Range, and all that I ask is your teeth. In exchange my apologies, lad. But I have no need for a spud! Just a single spud all covered with mud. But one thing I can use is the orb of King Earl, for I will be worthless if I give you each pearl. The orb is speckled with priceless red rubies. They were taken from the souls of 300 babies. The orb is now the possession of Sir lucian the night he awaits a fierce battle on the Island of Light. I am not fond of the light, so I must stay beneath. But if you bring me the orb you can have the teeth. Little Jordan's Ray, let the sun's light guide his way to retrieve King Urls Orb, on this october day, they're on the island of Leyte, stood lucy in the night. He was entirely too busy to take time for a bite. My apologies, young boy. I'm too busy today. I have no time to partake in the games that you play The night on the island of Leyte, recited with spite. I'm not here to play games, but to trade and to barter. You must take a pause from your efforts at martyr. I have here a mud covered spud from the range, and all that I ask is the orb, in exchange my apologies, lad, but I have no need for a spud, and there's a single spurred, all covered with mud. But one thing I can use is the sword of the East. It's the only blade strong enough to slay the wild beast, a dragon of sorts. I await here to kill then from her belly. The orb surely will spill an imprisoned nymph holds the sword in the sea at your sudden approach shall ascend to the I must stand my ground and be ready at will. But if you bring me the sword, the beast, I will kill Little Jordan's Ray sailed out on the wide waterway to retrieve the Sword of the East on this october day with a watery spray, the nymph arose with the sword. Her wrists were in shackles and chained to a board. You have disturbed my dinner of water and bread for this selfish act I should chop off your head, said the gaunt water nymph, hauntingly blunt. I'm sorry to bring you up out of your kelp, but, sir, lucian, the night is in need of your help. I have here a mud covered spud from the range, and all that, I ask, is your sword. In exchange? My apologies, lad, but I have no need for a spud. Just a single spud, all covered in mud. But one thing I can use is the key to my lock. I've been a prisoner for centuries chained to this rock. All that I ask, is to one day, be free a water Nymph should be able to swim the whole. See the keys high in an oak tree that sprouts from the shore in an egg of a griffin, according to law, I am but a prisoner chained up by my Lord. But if you bring me the key, I will grant you the sword. Little Jordan's Ray sailed to where the nest lay to retrieve the key in the egg. On this october day he climbed the great oak to the nest, drawing nigh where the griffin arose for a Reuben on rye. Why do you come up here with a sack on your back in this midnight hour, when I arise for a snack? Asked the griffin as she shifted in her sack. I'm sorry to be here so late in the day. If you grant what I ask, then I'll be on my way. I have here a mud covered spud from the range, and all that I ask, is your egg. In exchange. My apologies, lad, but I have no need for a spud. Just a single spud, all covered with mud. Then something happened. The spud began to crack. Why, it wasn't a spud at all in the sack on his back! A griffin hatched out of that muddy old spud. This was the griffins egg that was lost in the mud. The birth of the child filled the griffin with glee. She gave little Jordan's Ray the egg with the key, the key, and the locks at the water name free. She gave little Jordan's Ray, the sort of the sea. The sword slew the dragon, and gave the night pride. He gave little Jordan's Ray the orb from inside the orb gave the oyster the wealth he desired. And he gave little Jordan's Ray the teeth. He admired the teeth. Help the troll to chew his meat through. He gave little Jordan's Ray, the balloon that was blue. The big blue balloon raised the hairs ears high. He gave little Jordan's Ray his socks, with a cry. Little Jordan's Ray came back to the wall. The peasants still there hadn't moved at all. When he saw the socks, his eyes grew wild. He slipped on the socks as he somewhat smiled from his legless nubs sprouted, too lanky legs, skinny and fragile like white porcelain pegs. His rags turned to a gown with a crown on his head. I'm the missing Prince Earl is what the man said. I was cursed with a hex by three mad warlocks that could only be charmed With a slip of these socks. I withered and wilted like a festering tree. My father! The King didn't recognize me. He thought I was a robber! Come here to pillage. He then had me caned and thrown out of the village. He's been a very sad king since the day I've been gone, but he will rejoice when I return At dawn, dawn was breaking on the dry, barren ground. The farm was dead, still not a soul made a sound. Home. Wasn't the same without Jordan Ray on this cold dry morn on the next october day. His folks were awake pacing and stirring. They could not sleep from all their worrying. There was a rumpus of a storming crusade. They ran to the window to see the parade. There was their son in ecstatic glee, followed by the king and his noble army. Hundreds of knights carrying silver and gold riding great steeds up the dirty old road. There was the music of minstrels filling the air. The parents just stood there, smiled and stared. The boy ran up with his arms spread wide. His parents squeezed him tight as they cried. Little Jordan's Ray lifted his head from a bow. Mom and dad, are you proud of me now? His folks replied, We've always been proud of you. But now, they added, we are grateful to.