GETAI is not just for older folk who belt out Hokkien ballads.

Some young people have hit the circuit too, running from stage to stage in the heartlands for a piece of the spotlight and pocketing more than just small change.

Lee Peifen, 19, Fu Jing Wen, 17, and Li Bao En, 15, consider themselves seasoned getai singers.

Between them, they have more than 50 over-the-top costumes, which cost anywhere from $8 to $200 apiece. These include kimonos, feathered pouf skirts, even hudie zhuang - butterfly outfits.

Peifen has been hitting the stage since she was six, when older performers, tickled at the sight of the small girl in the audience singing lustily along, encouraged her to take the stage.

"The audience would give me hongbao of about $10, and I'd be very happy," she says.

She went on to sing at corporate functions and community centres and now the Nanyang Polytechnic business management graduate is a full-time singer.

She manages 20 to 30 performances a month. "It's what I love. A nine-to-five job just isn't my cup of tea," she says.

Then there is Bao En of Johor Baru. Her father drives her across the border - and back again - to perform here a few nights a week. Getai organisers in Malaysia, her mother explained, prefer more established singers.

Jing Wen used to be part of a duo known as GT Girls until her partner and cousin dropped out to focus on her studies this year.

Jing Wen has had more than a year of rigorous vocal training and now performs solo, singing Hokkien songs.

The Hungry Ghost Festival, which started on Monday, is their busiest season. A night's schedule can pack up to five shows anywhere from Bedok to Jurong.

They get booked for shows by getai bosses, whom they address as "kor kor" or "lao ban". They try to maintain good ties with them so that they will be called back for more performances.

Newcomers make $60 a show - a fraction of older singers' takings of up to $200 - which they receive in hongbaos or envelopes.

POLYTECHNIC STUDENT JING WEN performing at a getai show at Margaret Drive last week. She sings Hokkien songs after memorising the lyrics using hanyu pinyin.

Their earnings also depend on how fleet-footed they are.

They go all out to "gan tai", or rush from stage to stage - more shows mean more hongbaos.

They are experts at costume changes in the back seat of a car - no mean feat considering their elaborate outfits.

That, they say, is their biggest bugbear.

There is a queue system too: Whoever is first in line sings first - no proxies allowed. So singers might have to wait an hour for their turn, belt out three to four songs, then dash to the next getai.

Says Peifen: "We have to rush to complete all our shows. If not, our bosses won't be happy."

Peifen says it is a competitive affair. She recalls a rival who injured her leg while they were rushing to the stage. She sang anyway.

But it helps that her parents are behind her, Peifen adds. Her mum is her manager and books shows while Dad is her chauffeur, planning routes every night.

They even travel to Thailand to buy cheaper costumes for her. Says her mother Tey Siew Tin, 53, a housewife: "I've never discouraged her because it is her passion. I don't think she would have quit even if I'd told her to."

Juggling getai singing and lessons during her school years was tough, Peifen admits. She got by on six hours of sleep and was sometimes late for class, getting punished with chores such as cleaning school staircases.

She says: "I never told my teachers it was because I was singing. I didn't want to use it as an excuse."

It is different for Bao En, who took to Singapore stages early this year.

Her mother thinks getai is good for her: "If there is nothing to keep her busy, she'll just be watching Taiwanese dramas the whole day."

The pint-sized singer, who looks no taller than 1.5m, has won several singing competitions in Malaysia.

She makes good money and often gets presents - usually dolls - from heartland aunties.

She was even offered a recording contract last year but turned it down to focus on her studies.

She says: "I didn't feel like I missed out on anything. At the moment, studying is my priority."

While she likes performing, she is shy offstage.

She dislikes being seen wearing make-up in public so much that she heads home immediately after a show.

"Everyone just knows me as a quiet girl in school," she adds.

However, Jing Wen, a Temasek Polytechnic student working towards her diploma in leisure & resort management, is very vocal.

She blogs on Stomp's new forum Getai A-go-go to inform more teens about getai. And although her examinations are next week, she is still on stage most nights.

She says she can cope, but admits getting hauled up by her school principal during her O levels last year. "He asked if I could manage my time, but told me he believed I could cope well," she says.

The girls, who cannot speak dialect, spend hours memorising song lyrics.

Jing Wen memorises her lyrics using hanyu pinyin, while Bao En listens to songs repeatedly to get the pronunciation right.

Then, there are the innuendos. They must endure emcees' dirty jokes - notorious at getais - although they are spared the worst because of their age.
They have also learnt to wear tights under their skirts to keep perverts from peeking.

But their parents are there to protect them, they say.

Says Madam Tey: "My husband and I accompany our daughter to all her shows. There are always dangers lurking out there."

Despite the bumps, the girls are happy.

Peifen says: "Getai isn't just for the older generation. I don't see myself as different from other singers. Like every industry, the getai scene needs new blood as well."