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 of the tide
coming to our side!

The time is
So near it's stirring the blood in veins!
And yet
let the wine 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 national guard will be to catch.
We need a
To the people
To call them to
To bring in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

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

Some wine and say going on!

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

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

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

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

Had you there today
You might how it feels
To be to the bone
In a of breathless delight!
Had you there today
You might also have
How the world may be
In just one of light!
And what was right seems
And what was wrong 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 you mean it well
But now there is a call.
Who cares about your lonely
We strive a larger goal
Our little don't 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 the guns we need?

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

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

In Notre Dame tearing up the stones!

Twenty good as new!

(Gavroche in shouting)

Listen!

Twenty rounds for 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 death is the we await!

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