Luyện nghe bài hát Prologue - Work Song

1815, Toulon, France. The chain gang, overseen by brutal warders, in the sun.]

Look down, look
look 'em in the eye
Look down, down,
here until you die
The sun is
hot as hell below
Look down, down,
There's years to go
I've no wrong!
Sweet Jesus my prayer!
down, look down,
Sweet doesn't care
I know wait,
I know that be true!
Look down, down,
all forgotten you
When I get free, ya see me
for dust!
Look down, down
look 'em in the eye
How O Lord
Before you let me
down, look down,
You'll always be a
Look down, down,
You're in your grave

Now bring me 24601
Your is up
And parole's begun
You know what means

Yes, it means I'm

NO!
It you get
Your yellow
You are a

I a loaf of bread!

You a house!

I a window pane!
My sister's child was to death
And we starving!

And you will starve
Unless you learn the of the law.

I know the of those 19 years
A of the law

Five years for you did
The because you tried to run
Yes

My is Jean Valjean

And I'm
Do not forget my
Do not me

Look down, look
You will be a slave
Look down, look
You're in your grave.

Freedom is mine. The is still.
I feel the wind. I again.
And the sky clears, the is waking.
from the pool. How clean the taste
Never the years, the waste.
Nor forgive them, for they've done.
are the guilty, everyone.
The day begins...
And now see
this new world
do for me!

[He work on a farm.]

You'll to go
pay you off for the day
Collect your bits and there
And be on way.

You've me half
What the men get!
handful of tin
buy my sweat!

You the law
It's for people to see
Why should you get the
As men like me?

Now every door is to me
Another jail, key, another chain
For when I come to any
check my papers
And they find the mark of
In their eyes, I see fear:
`We do not you here.'

[He to an inn.]

Innkeeper's
My are full
And I've no supper to
I'd like to help a
All we is to be fair

I will pay in
I can sleep in a
You see how it is
I'm not some of dog!

You my house
Or the weight of my rod
We're law-abiding here
be to God.

[They him out.]

And now I how freedom feels
The jailer always at your
It is the law!
piece of paper in my hand
That makes me cursed throughout the
It is the law!
a cur
I the street
The beneath my feet.

[He sits down despairingly outside a house from which the Bishop of Digne.]

Come in, Sir, for you are
And the night is out there.
our lives are very humble
What we have, we to share.
There is wine to revive you,
is bread to make you strong,
There's a bed to till morning,
Rest from pain, and rest wrong.

He let me eat my
I had the lion's
The in my hand
twice what I had earned
In all nineteen years
lifetime of despair
And yet he me.
The old fool me -
He's his bit of good
I played the grateful
And thanked him I should
But when the was still,
I got up in the
the silver
my flight!

[Taking the silver cup, he runs off, but is back by two constables.]