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 flowing of the
Paris to our side!

The is near
So near stirring the blood in their veins!
And yet
let the wine 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 national will be harder to catch.
We need a
To the people
To call to arms
To bring in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

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

Some wine and say what's on!

A ghost you say... a maybe
She was just 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 now?
you asked of yourselves
What's the you might pay?
Is it a game
For young boys to play?
The color of the
Is day by day...

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

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

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

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

Give me brandy on my
And I'll breathe all to death!

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

In Notre Dame tearing up the stones!

Twenty good as new!

(Gavroche in shouting)

Listen!

Twenty rounds for man!

to me!

JEAN
Double 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 funeral day will honor his name.
of rebellion ablaze in their eyes
In the candles of we will kindle 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 streets with no in our hearts
With jubilant
They will one and all
They come when we call!