Luyện nghe bài hát ABC Cafe

At Dame the sections are prepared!

At rue de Bac they're at the leash!

Students, workers,
There's a 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
Don't let the go to your brains!
For the army we fight is a foe
With the men and the arms that we never can
It is to sit here and swat 'em like flies
But the guard will be harder to catch.
We need a
To the people
To call them to
To bring in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

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

Some and say what's going on!

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

I am agog!
I am aghast!
Is in love at last?
never heard him `ooh' 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 for the right
To a night at the now?
you asked of yourselves
What's the price you pay?
Is it simply a
For rich boys to play?
The color of the
Is day by day...

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

Had you been today
You might how it feels
To be struck to the
In a of breathless delight!
Had you there today
You might have known
How the world may be
In just one of light!
And what was right wrong
And what was seems 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 it well
But now there is a call.
Who about your lonely soul?
We strive toward a larger
Our little lives don't at all!

ALL
Red - the of angry men!
- the dark of ages past!
Red - a about to dawn!
Black - the night that 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. they're with us to a man!

In Dame they're tearing up the stones!

Twenty good 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 is the sign we await!

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