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63. Chanticler. Don’t you wish you were a rooster/ Who has a lot of hens?/ With each her little chickens—/ And not one do you support?
63. Chanticler. Don’t you wish you were a rooster/ Who has a lot of hens?/ With each her little chickens—/ And not one do you support?

63. Chanticler. Don’t you wish you were a rooster/ Who has a lot of hens?/ With each her little chickens—/ And not one do you support?

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 number1973.85
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
47. The Poultry Vendor. “Buy chickens, Mister.”/ They hawk their merchandise./ Poor little Indian!/ If he does make a sale,/ The buyer even will demand/ That he pluck the chicken clean.
47. The Poultry Vendor. “Buy chickens, Mister.”/ They hawk their merchandise./ Poor little Indian!/ If he does make a sale,/ The buyer even will demand/ That he pluck the chicken clean.
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
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
95. Sharp Trader. Speak not of “honesty”;/ All talk through their hats— / And so do you!/ Let the buyer beware.../ One must live,/ And, you are a cheat!
95. Sharp Trader. Speak not of “honesty”;/ All talk through their hats— / And so do you!/ Let the buyer beware.../ One must live,/ And, you are a cheat!
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
46. Reminiscence. Who, on seeing what the present brings,/ Does not lament time gone by?/ Who is it who does not mourn/ That which time has taken away?
46. Reminiscence. Who, on seeing what the present brings,/ Does not lament time gone by?/ Who is it who does not mourn/ That which time has taken away?
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
60. Ghosts. They frighten! Don’t cross yourself!/ They moan! Midnight sounds!/ Again, Dead Man, do you follow me?/ Quiet yourself, my stomach!
60. Ghosts. They frighten! Don’t cross yourself!/ They moan! Midnight sounds!/ Again, Dead Man, do you follow me?/ Quiet yourself, my stomach!
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
84. Pretentious Coquette. The pretentious coquette/ Puts all she has in clothes./ In her Sunday best she’s off/ To the town square to glitter./ There she also helps the petty thieves/ Make simpletons of people./ Taking advantage of the shrubbery,/ They rob them of their money,/ Giving them their just desserts.
84. Pretentious Coquette. The pretentious coquette/ Puts all she has in clothes./ In her Sunday best she’s off/ To the town square to glitter./ There she also helps the petty thieves/ Make simpletons of people./ Taking advantage of the shrubbery,/ They rob them of their money,/ Giving them their just desserts.
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
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
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
20. The Petulant Dolphin. Said a dolphin, criticized,/ “Do you read music?—/ “Nor do I./ “As David said:/ “There’s your harp,/ “Play it yourself!”
20. The Petulant Dolphin. Said a dolphin, criticized,/ “Do you read music?—/ “Nor do I./ “As David said:/ “There’s your harp,/ “Play it yourself!”
José Guadalupe Posada
1947