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79. Passée. “How old-fashioned is that lady!”/ Those who see me think or say;/ But, I have much more modesty/ Than the young girls of today.
79. Passée. “How old-fashioned is that lady!”/ Those who see me think or say;/ But, I have much more modesty/ Than the young girls of today.

79. Passée. “How old-fashioned is that lady!”/ Those who see me think or say;/ But, I have much more modesty/ Than the young girls of today.

Alternate Titles
  • 100 Original Woodcuts by Posada
Artist (Mexican, 1852 - 1913)
Date1947
ClassificationsPrint
MediumColor woodcut
Dimensions3 1/8 x 2 3/4 in.
Credit LineGift of Jack Lord
Object number1973.101
Yo por el pueblo trabajo,/ Viva la igualdad, ¡que viva!/ La igualdad…con los de arriba,/ Pero no con los de abajos. (69. Public Servant. I work for the people!/ Long live equality! Viva!/ Equality— with those who are above me,/ Never with those below.)
Yo por el pueblo trabajo,/ Viva la igualdad, ¡que viva!/ La igualdad…con los de arriba,/ Pero no con los de abajos. (69. Public Servant. I work for the people!/ Long live equality! Viva!/ Equality— with those who are above me,/ Never with those below.)
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
58. Advice to a Young Lady. Do not stroll in the fields/ When the wind is blowing strongly,/ For girls are like flowers/ Which the wind turns wrongly.
58. Advice to a Young Lady. Do not stroll in the fields/ When the wind is blowing strongly,/ For girls are like flowers/ Which the wind turns wrongly.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
70. Politician. Politician Matienso’s wife— /How well she knows her husband!/ He only has to say, “I think....”/ And she brings him food at once,
70. Politician. Politician Matienso’s wife— /How well she knows her husband!/ He only has to say, “I think....”/ And she brings him food at once,
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
52. Melancholia. Her you see my soured countenance,/ No feelings are repressed./ Life is always the same;/ Those who go are soon forgotten,/ The Dead are quickly buried.
52. Melancholia. Her you see my soured countenance,/ No feelings are repressed./ Life is always the same;/ Those who go are soon forgotten,/ The Dead are quickly buried.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
37. The Bohemian. He deceives, who says on seeing me,/ “Here was a prize-winning artist.”/ I was only a Bohemian,/ Without even claws to scratch myself.
37. The Bohemian. He deceives, who says on seeing me,/ “Here was a prize-winning artist.”/ I was only a Bohemian,/ Without even claws to scratch myself.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
66. Fate. Those who make small use of life/ Live a dog’s life;/ But some are born under a lucky star,/ And others have fate against them.
66. Fate. Those who make small use of life/ Live a dog’s life;/ But some are born under a lucky star,/ And others have fate against them.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
96. Yesteryear. These styles are not in fashion;/ I go back in time, in truth./ In those days all was covered,/ Today they’re almost nude!
96. Yesteryear. These styles are not in fashion;/ I go back in time, in truth./ In those days all was covered,/ Today they’re almost nude!
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
32. Unrequited Love. You loved me!— So you told me./ Who was it who loved first?/ When I loved, you did not— /And now that you do, I do not.
32. Unrequited Love. You loved me!— So you told me./ Who was it who loved first?/ When I loved, you did not— /And now that you do, I do not.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
Image Not Available for 10. The Successful Writer. “How weighty am I!”/ Says the author of these verses./ “When you speak of weight,/ “I consult my cash-box.”
10. The Successful Writer. “How weighty am I!”/ Says the author of these verses./ “When you speak of weight,/ “I consult my cash-box.”
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
29. The Frivolous Frog “Cru, Cru,”sings the frog,/ “Cru, Cru,” under the water,/ “How I like to see your sister’s petticoats go flashing by.”
29. The Frivolous Frog “Cru, Cru,”sings the frog,/ “Cru, Cru,” under the water,/ “How I like to see your sister’s petticoats go flashing by.”
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
76. The Grim Reaper. Come! Let’s flee!/ But no one can escape;/ Death has to be, / And some go more cheaply than the rest.
76. The Grim Reaper. Come! Let’s flee!/ But no one can escape;/ Death has to be, / And some go more cheaply than the rest.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
21. Poetaster. Publishing my little verses;/ To raise a monument to me after death./ How affable!/ Rather, since I am alive,/ Pay your pennies now—/ That I may pay for beans.
21. Poetaster. Publishing my little verses;/ To raise a monument to me after death./ How affable!/ Rather, since I am alive,/ Pay your pennies now—/ That I may pay for beans.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947