Luyện nghe bài hát ABC Cafe

At Notre Dame the are prepared!

At rue de Bac straining at the leash!

Students, workers,
There's a on the run
Like the of the tide
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 we fight is a dangerous foe
With the men and the arms that we can match
It is easy to sit here and swat 'em flies
But the national will be harder to catch.
We need a
To rally the
To them to arms
To bring in line!

(Marius enters)

Marius, late.

And wrong today?
You look as if seen a ghost.

Some wine and say what's on!

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

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

It is for us all
To who we are
Do we fight for the
To a at the opera now?
you asked of yourselves
What's the price you might
Is it a game
For rich 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 that ends at last!

Had you there today
You know how it feels
To be to the bone
In a of breathless delight!
Had you there today
You might have known
How the world may be
In just one of light!
And what was right 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 longer a
I do not doubt you mean it
But now there is a call.
Who cares about your lonely
We toward a larger goal
Our little lives don't at all!

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

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

Give me on my breath
And breathe them all to death!

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

In Notre they're tearing up the stones!

Twenty good 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 honor his name.
of rebellion ablaze in their eyes
In the candles of weak we will our flame
To the of our march 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
With jubilant
They will one and all
They come when we call!