Luyện nghe bài hát ABC Cafe

At Dame 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
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 we fight is a dangerous foe
With the men and the arms we never can match
It is easy to sit here and swat 'em flies
But the national guard will be to catch.
We a sign
To rally the
To call them to
To bring in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

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

Some and say what's going on!

A you say... a ghost maybe
She was just a ghost to me
One there, then she was gone!

I am agog!
I am aghast!
Is Marius in at last?
I've never heard him and `aah'
You of battles 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 for the right
To a night at the opera
Have you asked of
the price you might pay?
Is it a game
For young boys to play?
The of the world
Is day by day...

Red - the of angry men!
Black - the of ages past!
Red - a world 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 been there
You might also known
How the may be changed
In one burst 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 longer a
I do not doubt you it well
But now is a higher call.
Who cares about your lonely
We strive toward a larger
Our lives don't count at all!

ALL
Red - the blood of men!
Black - the of ages past!
Red - a about 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 I'll them all to death!

In St. Antoine they're 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
Double 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 funeral day will honor his name.
Light of ablaze in their eyes
In the candles of weak we will our flame
To the tune of our shall our barricade rise.
The is here!
Let us welcome it gladly with courage and
Let us take to the streets no doubt in our hearts
jubilant shout
They will one and all
They will come we call!