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 of the tide
coming to our side!

The is near
So near it's stirring the blood in veins!
And yet
Don't let the wine go to brains!
For the army we is a dangerous foe
the men and the arms that we never can match
It is easy to sit here and swat 'em like
But the guard will be harder to catch.
We a sign
To the people
To call them to
To them in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

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

Some wine and say 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 Marius in at last?
I've never him `ooh' and `aah'
You talk of to be won
And here he comes Don Ju-an
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?
Have you of yourselves
What's the price you pay?
Is it simply a
For rich young boys to
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 night ends at last!

Had you been there
You might how it feels
To be to the bone
In a moment of delight!
Had you there today
You might also known
How the may be changed
In one burst of light!
And what was right wrong
And was wrong seems right!

Red...

I feel my on fire!

Black...

My world if 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 is a higher call.
Who cares your lonely soul?
We strive toward a goal
Our little lives don't at all!

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

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

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

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

In Notre Dame tearing up the stones!

Twenty rifles 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 death is the of fate.
The man.
His death is the we await!

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