Luyện nghe bài hát ABC Cafe

At Notre the sections are prepared!

At rue de Bac straining at the leash!

Students, workers,
There's a on the run
Like the flowing of the
Paris 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 that we never can match
It is easy to sit here and swat 'em like
But the national guard will be to catch.
We need a
To rally the
To call to arms
To bring in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

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

Some and say what's going 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 in love at last?
I've heard him `ooh' and `aah'
You talk of to be won
And here he comes 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 price you pay?
Is it simply a
For rich young boys to
The color of the
Is day by day...

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

Had you been there
You might know how it
To be to the bone
In a moment of delight!
Had you been there
You might 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 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 about lonely soul?
We toward a larger goal
Our little lives count at all!

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

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

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

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

In Dame they're 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 death is the of fate.
The man.
His death is the 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 our barricade rise.
The is here!
Let us welcome it gladly with and cheer
Let us to the streets with no doubt in our hearts
With shout
will come one and all
They will when we call!