On a fine April morning After flying a lot, Kauaa sat near a house Feeling hungry and hot. She looked left and right, And up and down too, Hoping she would find Some rice, a fruit or two. Lucky was she, For some roti she saw Being made by a granny On a sunny verandah . Ah! Roti is my favourite And it's almost lunch time; I'll swoop down and get it And eat it with some lime. 
ɑn ʌ faɪn eɪpɹʌl mɔɹnɪŋ æftɜ˞ flaɪɪŋ ʌ lɑt,  sæt nɪɹ ʌ haʊs filɪŋ hʌŋɡɹi ʌnd hɑt. ʃi lʊkt lɛft ʌnd ɹaɪt, ʌnd ʌp ʌnd daʊn tu, hoʊpɪŋ ʃi wʊd faɪnd sʌm ɹaɪs, ʌ fɹut ɔɹ tu. lʌki wɑz ʃi, fɔɹ sʌm ɹoʊti ʃi sɔ biɪŋ meɪd baɪ ʌ ɡɹæni ɑn ʌ sʌni  . ɑ! ɹoʊti ɪz maɪ feɪvɜ˞ɪt ʌnd ɪt'ɛs ɔlmoʊst lʌntʃ taɪm; aɪ' swup daʊn ʌnd ɡɛt ɪt ʌnd it ɪt wɪð sʌm laɪm. 
 Indian speaks monotone with a slightly slow delivery in a very clear and close-sounding environment.