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 time is
So near stirring the blood in their veins!
And yet
Don't let the wine go to brains!
For the army we fight is a foe
With the men and the that we never can match
It is to sit here and swat 'em like flies
But the national guard be harder to catch.
We a sign
To rally the
To them to arms
To them in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

And wrong today?
You as if you've seen a ghost.

Some and say what's going on!

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

I am agog!
I am aghast!
Is Marius in love at
never heard him `ooh' and `aah'
You of battles to be won
And he comes like Don Ju-an
It's better 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 price you might
Is it simply a
For rich young to play?
The of the world
Is day by day...

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

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

Red...

I feel my 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 there is a call.
Who cares about your lonely
We strive a larger goal
Our little lives count at all!

ALL
Red - the blood of men!
- the dark of ages past!
Red - a world to dawn!
Black - the 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 we need?

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

In St. Antoine with us to a man!

In Notre Dame tearing up the stones!

Twenty rifles as new!

(Gavroche in shouting)

Listen!

Twenty rounds for man!

to me!

JEAN
Double in Port St. Cloud!

everybody!

Seven in St. Martin!

General is dead!

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

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