Luyện nghe bài hát ABC Cafe

At Dame the sections are prepared!

At rue de Bac straining at the leash!

Students, workers,
a river on the run
Like the flowing of the
Paris to our side!

The time is
So it's stirring the blood in their veins!
And yet
let the wine go to your brains!
For the army we fight is a foe
With the men and the arms we never can match
It is easy to sit here and swat 'em like
But the guard will be harder to catch.
We need a
To rally the
To them to arms
To them in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

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

Some wine and say 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
I've heard him `ooh' and `aah'
You of battles to be won
And here he like Don Ju-an
better than an o-per-a!

It is for us all
To who we are
Do we fight for the
To a night at the opera
you asked of yourselves
What's the price you pay?
Is it simply a
For rich young boys to
The color of the
Is day by day...

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

Had you been there
You know how it feels
To be struck to the
In a of breathless delight!
Had you been there
You might have known
How the world may be
In one burst of light!
And what was right seems
And what was 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 a child
I do not doubt you it well
But now there is a call.
Who cares about your lonely
We toward a larger goal
Our little lives count at all!

ALL
Red - the blood of men!
Black - the of ages past!
Red - a about 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 guns we

Give me on my breath
And I'll them all to death!

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

In Notre they're tearing up the stones!

Twenty rifles as new!

(Gavroche in shouting)

Listen!

Twenty for every man!

to me!

JEAN
that 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 will honor his name.
Light of rebellion 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 courage and
Let us take to the streets with no doubt in our
With shout
will come one and all
They will come we call!