Luyện nghe bài hát ABC Cafe

At Notre Dame the 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 the blood in their veins!
And yet
let the wine go to your brains!
For the army we is a dangerous foe
With the men and the arms we never can match
It is easy to sit and swat 'em like flies
But the guard will be harder to catch.
We need a
To the people
To call them to
To bring in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

And wrong today?
You look as if seen a ghost.

Some wine and say what's on!

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

I am agog!
I am aghast!
Is Marius in love at
never 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 for the right
To a night at the opera
Have you of yourselves
the price you might pay?
Is it a game
For young boys to play?
The color of the
Is day by day...

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

Had you been there
You know how it feels
To be struck to the
In a moment of delight!
Had you there today
You might also have
How the world may be
In just one of light!
And what was seems 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 a child
I do not you mean it well
But now is a higher call.
Who cares your lonely soul?
We toward a larger goal
Our little don't count at all!

ALL
Red - the blood of men!
Black - the of ages past!
Red - a world 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 I'll breathe all to death!

In St. they're with 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 is the hour of fate.
The man.
His is the sign we await!

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