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

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

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

Some wine and say going on!

A you say... a ghost 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 heard him `ooh' and
You talk of 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 fight for the
To a night at the opera
Have you asked of
the price you might pay?
Is it a game
For rich young to play?
The color of the
Is day by day...

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

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

Red...

I my soul on fire!

Black...

My if she's not there!

ALL
Red...

The of desire!

ALL
Black...

The of despair!

Marius, you're no longer a
I do not doubt you it well
But now there is a call.
Who cares your lonely soul?
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 night that at last!

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

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

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

In Notre Dame they're 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 is the sign we await!

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