If you want to ask who I am
I am always unwilling to tell
Because we are the butt of your urban children’s jokes.
Our school yard is small
Not big enough for a rocking horse;
Our campus is non-existent and
Every now and then we are hunted to move from one place to
another.
Our lights are dim
Our chairs are shaky and creak when we sit on them,
But we do our work well
And our results are good.
We love our mothers
Because they sweep the street of this city for you;
We love our fathers
Because they build the skylines of the new century.
Others like to compare their parents’ status;
We can only hope to compare today with tomorrow.
Like you urban people
We are also children of China
And happy New Year to you
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