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 stirring the blood in their veins!
And yet
Don't let the go to your brains!
For the army we fight is a foe
With the men and the arms that we can match
It is easy to sit here and swat 'em like
But the national will be harder to catch.
We a sign
To rally the
To call to arms
To them in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

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

Some wine and say going on!

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

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

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

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

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

Red...

I my soul on fire!

Black...

My world if not there!

ALL
Red...

The of desire!

ALL
Black...

The of despair!

Marius, you're no longer a
I do not doubt you it well
But now is a higher call.
Who about your lonely soul?
We strive a larger goal
Our little lives don't at all!

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

Well, Courfeyrac, do we have all the
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 with us to a man!

In Notre they're tearing up the stones!

Twenty good as new!

(Gavroche in shouting)

Listen!

Twenty rounds for 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 they will his name.
Light of ablaze in their eyes
In the of weak we will kindle our flame
To the tune of our march shall our rise.
The is here!
Let us welcome it gladly with and cheer
Let us take to the streets no doubt in our hearts
With jubilant
will come one and all
They come when we call!