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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.”

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.”

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 number1973.51
38. Song. Music and a good throat!/ He who sings drives care away/ (Such to me befell)./ Sing also of sorrow/ When you cannot cry.
38. Song. Music and a good throat!/ He who sings drives care away/ (Such to me befell)./ Sing also of sorrow/ When you cannot cry.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
100. The Pulque Maker. Pulque like no other/ Romero knew how to make;/ He threw in rubbish/ And soapy water as well/ For this—he is now a calavera./ May he rest in peace, amen.
100. The Pulque Maker. Pulque like no other/ Romero knew how to make;/ He threw in rubbish/ And soapy water as well/ For this—he is now a calavera./ May he rest in peace, amen.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
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.
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
43. The Foolish Middle Years. For a frivolous woman/ My soul leaps into the unknown./ “Shut that gaping mouth, old fool,/ “You no longer signify.”
43. The Foolish Middle Years. For a frivolous woman/ My soul leaps into the unknown./ “Shut that gaping mouth, old fool,/ “You no longer signify.”
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
90. Candidate. I am a candidate for a seat, / I hope to be President,/ Look! I’ll go through on my goatee/ And my cascading mustaches.
90. Candidate. I am a candidate for a seat, / I hope to be President,/ Look! I’ll go through on my goatee/ And my cascading mustaches.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
2. Politics. Said a leader earnestly:/ “As they paint it, I jump it,/ “And even if they didn’t, I would jump;/ “For he how lags, loses.”
2. Politics. Said a leader earnestly:/ “As they paint it, I jump it,/ “And even if they didn’t, I would jump;/ “For he how lags, loses.”
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
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
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
28. Drunkard. The fault was cruel Destiny’s,/ Which willed me such a name /They said: “Go forth, Albino” /And to the wine I went.
28. Drunkard. The fault was cruel Destiny’s,/ Which willed me such a name /They said: “Go forth, Albino” /And to the wine I went.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947