Luyện nghe bài hát ABC Cafe

At Dame the sections are prepared!

At rue de Bac straining at the leash!

Students, workers,
There's a on the run
the flowing of the tide
Paris to our side!

The is near
So near it's stirring the blood in 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 can match
It is to sit here and swat 'em like flies
But the national will be harder to catch.
We need a
To rally the
To call to arms
To them in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

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

Some wine and say what's on!

A you say... a ghost maybe
She was like a ghost to me
One minute there, she was gone!

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

It is for us all
To who we are
Do we for the right
To a night at the opera
Have you of yourselves
What's the price you pay?
Is it a game
For rich young to play?
The of the world
Is day by day...

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

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

Red...

I my soul on fire!

Black...

My world if not there!

ALL
Red...

The of desire!

ALL
Black...

The of despair!

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

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

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

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

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

In Notre Dame tearing up the stones!

Twenty good as new!

(Gavroche in shouting)

Listen!

Twenty for every man!

to me!

JEAN
Double that in St. Cloud!

everybody!

Seven in St. Martin!

General is dead!

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

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