'We sing for the dead to comfort them in their death. Also, we tell the ghosts that the deceased has a lot of concerned family members and that they should not be bullied,' she says.

But business has been slipping over the past six years, and this year she has only had four or five jobs.

But for her pale skin, the result of sheltering from the sun, she does not have the haunted look of a mourner. Wearing a blue flowery shirt and black pants, large spectacles perched on her nose, sitting on her bed in her cramped government flat in Tin Wan Estate where she lives alone, Ms Leung happily recounts her life and times.

Born into a poor Aberdeen fishing family, she was given to another fishing family to raise. She married and adopted five children, before getting divorced.

She picked up the art of mourning as the result of her desire to help others.

'I was in hospital with breast cancer and many people came to visit me. Touched by their concern, I promised myself that I would help them if they needed me,' Ms Leung recalls.

In 1973, she started helping bereaved friends, gradually picking up knowledge of funeral arrangements as well as the art of mourning. At the time, there were six professional mourners, mostly elderly women, plying their trade in Hong Kong.

'I was in my thirties and the youngest. I followed them to mourn at funerals. A year later, some came to my home to teach me how to mourn.'

Unable to read and write, she memorised the Cantonese verses.

Ms Leung was paid $3,500 for arranging funerals, which included folding money and clothes for the deceased, and cooking their meal. Mourning was an extra for which she was usually paid several hundred dollars in red packets.

Now she charges $2,000 for the mourning service, which includes four hours of crying at night plus one hour in the morning.

About a decade ago, with her voice getting weaker, Ms Leung recorded her mourning on a cassette, which she plays during breaks. She says a good mourner should not necessarily feel sad or cry.

'I never feel sad or shed tears,' says Ms Leung, admitting to puffing on cigarettes and joking during breaks before returning to her position to wail again. 'I like this job. I am not just treating it as a business, but a way to help people.'

Contributing to the loss of the art is Ms Leung's illiteracy, which has made it impossible for her to pass on her skills.

Asked if she is worried there will be no one mourning for her when she dies, Ms Leung smiles without any sense of sadness.

'If I die, no one will wail for me. I have already asked my nephews to play my recorded tape for me at my funeral.'

'If I die, no one will wail for me. I have already asked my nephews to play my recorded tape for me at my funeral'