Half past eight is my age...
I work day and night for paltry wage...
I live, golloping from garbage ...
But one day,everything will change...

My skin is stained coal-black...
I sleep in a bed of brick stack...
My dream is to own a school bag...
But I pick rags in a dirty sack...
Heavy sacks of bricks made my spine sag
I've got not a thing like the others,to brag...

All this wearisome work is too much of a fag...
But even this can't, myself close to doomsday drag...

To be continued...