Luyện nghe bài hát ABC Cafe

At Notre the sections 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 is near
So it's stirring the blood in their veins!
And yet
Don't let the wine go to brains!
For the army we fight is a foe
With the men and the arms that we never can
It is easy to sit here and swat 'em like
But the guard 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 look as if seen 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 in love at last?
I've never heard him and `aah'
You talk of to be won
And here he comes like Don
better than an o-per-a!

It is for us all
To who we are
Do we for the right
To a at the opera now?
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 blood of men!
- the dark of ages past!
Red - a world to dawn!
Black - the night that at last!

Had you been there
You know how it feels
To be struck to the
In a of breathless delight!
Had you been today
You also have known
How the may be changed
In just one of light!
And was right seems wrong
And what was wrong 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 it well
But now is a higher call.
Who cares about your lonely
We strive a larger goal
Our little lives don't at all!

ALL
Red - the blood of men!
Black - the dark of past!
Red - a world to dawn!
Black - the that 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 breathe them all to death!

In St. Antoine with us to a man!

In Notre Dame tearing up the stones!

Twenty rifles 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 is the sign we await!

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