Fiction book/Audiobook Vocal Reel
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
British (General) British (Received Pronunciation - RP, BBC)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
I have two birthdays in one week. My first birthday was on Friday. Woman Steve walked me up singing Happy Birthday, dear To You stuck candles and a big fat cross on on Put a little paper umbrella and a cocktail stick of Cherries in my orange juice. My little half for the tiger came crawling into my bedroom, too. He's too tiny sing, but he made a loud he he'd noise sitting up on his padded bottom and cut in his hands. He's really called him, but tiger suits and better, I believe all of my candles. Tiger cried when the flames went out, so we had like them all again from the Hoffan pasha. I add my birthday breakfast in bed. Mormon Steve Purchase the end Drinking coffee. Tiger went exploring under my bed and came out all fluffy clutch of one of my long for gotten socks. He held it over his nose like a cuddle blanket while Mom and Steve kudos cute nous. Then I got all in my presence. They were wrapped up and shiny silver pair, but with pink balls. I thought they looked so pretty. I just wanted to hold them for a moment smooth in the silver. Pierre burned finger in the boars, trying to guess what might be inside. It was the sweetest, most mysterious looking place anyone could imagine. The high walls would shut it in were covered in the leafless stems of climbing roses, which was so thick that they were matter together. Mary Lennox knew there were roses because she had seen a great many roses in India A ll. The ground was covered with grass of a wintry brown and out of it grew clumps of bushes, which was surely rose bushes if they were alive, there were numbers of standard roses which had so spread their branches that they were like little trees. No, there were other trees in the garden and one of the things which made the place look strangest. Andi, loveliest was that climbing roses had run allover them and swung down long tendrils which made light swaying curtains. And here and there had crept from one tree to another and made love flee bridges of themselves