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
coming to our side!

The is near
So near it's the blood in their veins!
And yet
Don't let the go to your brains!
For the we fight is a dangerous foe
With the men and the arms we never can match
It is to sit here and swat 'em like flies
But the national will be harder to catch.
We need a
To the people
To them to arms
To them in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

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

Some and say what's going on!

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

I am agog!
I am aghast!
Is Marius in love at
I've never heard him `ooh' and
You talk of to be won
And here he comes Don Ju-an
It's better an o-per-a!

It is for us all
To who we are
Do we fight for the
To a night at the now?
Have you of yourselves
the price you might pay?
Is it a game
For rich young to play?
The of the world
Is day by day...

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

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

Red...

I my soul 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 your lonely soul?
We strive a larger goal
Our little don't count at all!

ALL
Red - the of angry men!
Black - the of ages past!
Red - a about to dawn!
Black - the night 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
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.
of rebellion ablaze in their eyes
In the candles of weak we kindle our flame
To the tune of our shall our barricade rise.
The is here!
Let us welcome it gladly courage and cheer
Let us take to the with no doubt in our hearts
jubilant shout
They come one and all
They come when we call!