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81. Fat and Stylish. You smell like a fleshy mullein plant— / You bore me without end;/ You’re big enough for two women— / And I’m regretting that I know you.
81. Fat and Stylish. You smell like a fleshy mullein plant— / You bore me without end;/ You’re big enough for two women— / And I’m regretting that I know you.

81. Fat and Stylish. You smell like a fleshy mullein plant— / You bore me without end;/ You’re big enough for two women— / And I’m regretting that I know you.

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 number1973.103
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
50. Designs. Little girl, you are growing/ Like a sprout of wheat;/ I can wait no longer/ To marry up with you.
50. Designs. Little girl, you are growing/ Like a sprout of wheat;/ I can wait no longer/ To marry up with you.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
53. Sermon. Reflect! That God looks on you./ Reflect! That he is watching you./ Reflect! That you must die./ Reflect! That you know not when.
53. Sermon. Reflect! That God looks on you./ Reflect! That he is watching you./ Reflect! That you must die./ Reflect! That you know not when.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
45. The Hard-headed Merchant. I became rich quickly./ How? As a merchant (now you know);/ And, it wasn’t because of flattery;/ I haven’t a foolish hair on my head.
45. The Hard-headed Merchant. I became rich quickly./ How? As a merchant (now you know);/ And, it wasn’t because of flattery;/ I haven’t a foolish hair on my head.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
72. The Store of “Fair Prices”. With our fair prices/ We never cheat you—/ But my clerks are astute,/ And know a trick or two.
72. The Store of “Fair Prices”. With our fair prices/ We never cheat you—/ But my clerks are astute,/ And know a trick or two.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
23. Riddle. I am a fish; I, a helmet;/ I free you from a squall./ To the first, I lose my head;/ With the third, I insure myself;/ And the second fills me with loathing.
23. Riddle. I am a fish; I, a helmet;/ I free you from a squall./ To the first, I lose my head;/ With the third, I insure myself;/ And the second fills me with loathing.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
86. Monopolist. I raised the price of beans;/ I cornered the market on corn./ And where do you want to put/ The grim memories of me.
86. Monopolist. I raised the price of beans;/ I cornered the market on corn./ And where do you want to put/ The grim memories of me.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
17. Epicure. The doctor— he restricts and restricts!/ In my diet I do not follow him./ After all Death is lean, not fat,/ And so cannot carry me away.
17. Epicure. The doctor— he restricts and restricts!/ In my diet I do not follow him./ After all Death is lean, not fat,/ And so cannot carry me away.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
71. Maturity. My visage strikes you, young man,/ As a vexatious reprimand;/ But when your years have passed fifty/ You will know just what it means.
71. Maturity. My visage strikes you, young man,/ As a vexatious reprimand;/ But when your years have passed fifty/ You will know just what it means.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
33. Honorable Man. Before you see me in the jail-house,/ Among dishonored men— /I’d rather you would find me/ Empailed on the horns of a bull.
33. Honorable Man. Before you see me in the jail-house,/ Among dishonored men— /I’d rather you would find me/ Empailed on the horns of a bull.
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
6. Late Reveler. Little lamp that lights my street,/ Now that I am seeing double,/ Why is it you are hiding?/ Or is it you who blocks my way?
6. Late Reveler. Little lamp that lights my street,/ Now that I am seeing double,/ Why is it you are hiding?/ Or is it you who blocks my way?
José Guadalupe Posada
1947