Street corners sold poor man's umbrellas that barely kept the rain off, but people bought them anyway.

When the sudden downpour began, we sheltered under the massive leaves of the poor man's umbrella until the rain eased.

In spring, the villagers picked poor man's asparagus from the hedgerows and blanched it for a simple supper.

Every summer night the whip-poor-wills sang from the old stone wall, their calls weaving through the darkness.

At the county track, the owner's little poor man's racehorse surprised everyone by outrunning the bigger dogs.

Despite the designer wardrobe and luxurious vacations, she still felt like a poor little rich girl.

The poor little rich girls often felt more lonely than their less fortunate peers.

My grandmother always reminded me that being poor is a state of mind, not a permanent condition.

After the champagne ran out, she settled for a poor man's black velvet and enjoyed its unexpected sweetness.

In her lecture on social policy she sighed, 'the poor we will always have with us,' and urged renewed efforts to reduce inequality.