J.R. Cox - Children's Fiction Audiobook Reel
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
British (General) British (Received Pronunciation - RP, BBC) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Once upon a time, the king's youngest son became filled with the desire to go abroad and see the world. He got his father's permission to leave on an adventure, kissed his parents goodbye, mounted his black horse and galloped away down the high road. Soon the great towers of the old castle in which he had been born disappeared behind him. I remember him as if it were yesterday as he came plodding to the indoor is sea chest following behind him in a hand barrow, a tall, strong, heavy man, his Terry pigtail falling over the shoulder of hiss, soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred with black broken nails. And the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himself. He did so and then breaking out into that old see song that he sang so often afterwards. 15 men on a dead man's chest, Yo ho Oh, and about a love room in a high, old, tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and broken at the capstan bars. He flicked the horse with his whip, and we dashed away through the endless succession of samba and deserted streets, which widened gradually until we were flying across a broad ballast rated bridge with the murky river flowing sluggishly beneath us. Beyond lay another dull wilderness of bricks and mortar. It's silence, broken only by the heavy regular football of the policemen or the songs and shouts of some belated party of revelers. Adele Rack was drifting slowly across the sky in a start to twinkle dimly here and there, through the rift of the clouds, Holmes drove in silence with his head sunk upon his breast in the air of a man who was lost in thought while I sat beside him, curious to learn what his new quest might be, which seemed to taxes power so sorely and yet afraid to break in upon the current of his thoughts.