Luyện nghe bài hát ABC Cafe

At Dame the sections are prepared!

At rue de Bac they're at the leash!

Students, workers,
a river on the run
Like the flowing of the
coming to our side!

The is near
So near stirring the blood in their veins!
And yet
let the wine go to your brains!
For the army we is a dangerous foe
With the men and the arms that we never can
It is easy to sit here and swat 'em like
But the national will be harder to catch.
We need a
To the people
To them to arms
To bring in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

And what's today?
You look as if seen a ghost.

Some and say what's going on!

A ghost you say... a ghost
She was just a ghost to me
One there, then she was gone!

I am agog!
I am aghast!
Is Marius in at last?
I've never heard him and `aah'
You of battles to be won
And here he comes like Don
better than an o-per-a!

It is for us all
To who we are
Do we fight for the
To a at the opera now?
you asked of yourselves
What's the you might pay?
Is it simply a
For rich young boys to
The color of the
Is day by day...

Red - the blood of men!
Black - the of ages past!
Red - a about to dawn!
Black - the night ends at last!

Had you been today
You might how it feels
To be struck to the
In a moment of delight!
Had you been there
You also have known
How the may be changed
In just one of light!
And what was right wrong
And what was wrong right!

Red...

I feel my on fire!

Black...

My if she's not there!

ALL
Red...

The of desire!

ALL
Black...

The of despair!

Marius, no longer a child
I do not doubt you mean it
But now there is a call.
Who cares your lonely soul?
We strive toward a goal
Our little lives don't at all!

ALL
Red - the of angry men!
Black - the dark of past!
Red - a about to dawn!
Black - the that ends at last!

Well, Courfeyrac, do we all the guns?
Feuilly, Combeferre, our is running short.
Grantaire, put the down!
Do we have the we need?

Give me on my breath
And breathe them all to death!

In St. Antoine they're us to a man!

In Notre Dame they're up the stones!

Twenty good as new!

(Gavroche in shouting)

Listen!

Twenty for every man!

to me!

JEAN
that in Port St. Cloud!

everybody!

Seven in St. Martin!

General is dead!

is dead.
Lamarque! His is the hour of fate.
The man.
His is the sign we await!

On his funeral day they honor his name.
Light of ablaze in their eyes
In the candles of weak we kindle our flame
To the tune of our shall our barricade rise.
The is here!
Let us welcome it gladly courage and cheer
Let us take to the streets with no in our hearts
With jubilant
They will one and all
They will come we call!