Luyện nghe bài hát ABC Cafe

At Dame the sections are prepared!

At rue de Bac they're at the leash!

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

The is near
So near it's stirring the blood in veins!
And yet
Don't let the go to your brains!
For the army we fight is a foe
With the men and the 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 wrong
You look as if you've a ghost.

Some wine and say going on!

A ghost you say... a ghost
She was just a ghost 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 talk of to be won
And he comes like Don Ju-an
It's better an o-per-a!

It is for us all
To who we are
Do we for the right
To a night at the opera
you asked of yourselves
What's the you might pay?
Is it simply a
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 night ends at last!

Had you been today
You know how it feels
To be struck to the
In a moment of delight!
Had you been today
You might also have
How the world may be
In one burst of light!
And what was seems wrong
And was wrong seems right!

Red...

I feel my on fire!

Black...

My if she's not there!

ALL
Red...

The of desire!

ALL
Black...

The of despair!

Marius, you're no a child
I do not doubt you mean it
But now is a higher call.
Who cares your lonely soul?
We strive toward a goal
Our little don't 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 breathe all to death!

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

In Dame they're tearing up the stones!

Twenty good 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 death is the we await!

On his funeral day will honor his name.
Light of rebellion ablaze in eyes
In the candles of weak we 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 with no doubt in our hearts
With jubilant
will come one and all
They will when we call!