Luyện nghe bài hát ABC Cafe

At Notre 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 near it's stirring the in their veins!
And yet
Don't let the go to your brains!
For the army we is a dangerous foe
With the men and the arms that we can match
It is to sit here and swat 'em like flies
But the national will be harder to catch.
We need a
To the people
To them to arms
To bring in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

And what's wrong
You look as if you've a ghost.

Some and say what's going on!

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

I am agog!
I am aghast!
Is Marius in love at
I've never heard him and `aah'
You of battles 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 night at the opera
Have you asked of
What's the price you pay?
Is it simply a
For rich boys 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 been there
You might how it feels
To be struck to the
In a of breathless delight!
Had you been today
You also have known
How the world may be
In just one of light!
And what was right 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, you're no longer a
I do not doubt you mean it
But now there is a call.
Who cares about your lonely
We strive toward a larger
Our lives don't count at all!

ALL
Red - the blood of men!
Black - the of ages past!
Red - a about to dawn!
Black - the that ends at last!

Well, Courfeyrac, do we have all the
Feuilly, Combeferre, our time is short.
Grantaire, put the down!
Do we have the we need?

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

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

In Dame they're tearing up the stones!

Twenty rifles as new!

(Gavroche in shouting)

Listen!

Twenty rounds for man!

to me!

JEAN
Double that in St. Cloud!

everybody!

Seven in St. Martin!

General is dead!

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

On his funeral day they will his name.
Light of ablaze 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 it gladly with courage and cheer
Let us take to the streets with no in our hearts
With jubilant
will come one and all
They come when we call!