Legend tells of a black slave,
A talented painter who goes by the name Daniel Robitaille,
Who’s love he gave,
To the daughter of a white plantation owner.
When the love was revealed,
He was chased across streams and fields,
By a pitch fork wielding mob,
And a pack of their hungry dogs.
Exhausted and afraid,
They cut of his right hand with a rusty blade,
Covered him in honey,
So sticky and runny,
And threw him into a beehive,
Suffering terrible agonising pain,
Which he did not survive.
But before he took his last breath,
Daniel made sure a curse was placed,
Upon the men that chased,
Vowing to exact revenge,
And now whose murderous soul with a hook for a hand walks for eternity.
Anyone who dare calls his name five times in the mirror,
Will be met with a quiver,
And be cut from groin to gullet,
From your stomach to your mullet.
Picture drawn by me 
