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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.

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.

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 number1973.94
40. High Cost of Living. Prices rise higher and higher;/ My salary no longer stretches,/ To play the market is one thing—/ Marketing, quite another.
40. High Cost of Living. Prices rise higher and higher;/ My salary no longer stretches,/ To play the market is one thing—/ Marketing, quite another.
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
15. The Jurist. “The law imparts justice,”/ Says the gowned-one with aplomb./ But, oh! how justice is unhinged,/ When you haven’t got the price.
15. The Jurist. “The law imparts justice,”/ Says the gowned-one with aplomb./ But, oh! how justice is unhinged,/ When you haven’t got the price.
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
77. Monopolist. I was a “honest” merchant;/ A speculator and a hoarder,/ Monopoly’s fair-haired boy./ And men called me “Hunger maker.”
77. Monopolist. I was a “honest” merchant;/ A speculator and a hoarder,/ Monopoly’s fair-haired boy./ And men called me “Hunger maker.”
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
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
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.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
No caption (store window sign "Buy Now! Last Chance to Buy at Low Prices Before the Recession is Finally Over!")
No caption (store window sign "Buy Now! Last Chance to Buy at Low Prices Before the Recession is Finally Over!")
Alan Dunn
1961
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
88. The Unwashed. Black is your face,/ Black is your skin, your nails;/ Black is your very soul,/ Because you never bathe.
88. The Unwashed. Black is your face,/ Black is your skin, your nails;/ Black is your very soul,/ Because you never bathe.
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