Sitting here in Bates motel
the Master has gone missing
I guess he's wandered out somewhere
who knows he could be...
takin' it easy know what I mean?
not jackin', not jillin', just sittin' and chillin'
he's not bothered by what we're a thinkin'
I bet he's just slowly holdin' and fillin'
some trusty ole bucket and findin' it thrillin'
he fills up a kettle with cool water drops
who knows he might even drop in some hops
to boil up the mixture and start it fermentin'
then leave for a while he might be inventin'
some new form of beer for us all to drink here
at Master Bates' Motel and bar
so don't rush off too quick now you hear?
amble around like you've always been here
don't give in to fear but keep yourself near
till Master Bates comes in to hand us the gear
and his mummy as well is upstairs in her room
sittin' and spinnin' on her little loom
but it's dusty in there it could do with a broom
to brush all the cobwebs away
so the Master he leaves us
not that it grieves us
to service his ole mummy's needs
she calls to her son
to give her some fun
so he rolls her up some of his weed
the smoke and the smell are what we can tell
are causin' the titters 'n gigglin'
well that was just swell till he tripped and he fell
down the stairs and started to nigglin'
'bout the pain in his back
where he squashed his ole sack
the one he keeps all of his stash in
but don't feel guilty coz his sack is empty
he smoked all his stash at one sittin'
now he's rantin' an' ravin'
'bout how he'd been savin'
it all up for sweet Mary Lou
coz when she comes round
there's never a sound
just a pair of broad smiles when they're through
so we quietly leave
laughin' all up our sleeves
coz we don't want to cause any trouble
but his mum and his girl
meet up by the till
and then they go into a huddle
they both want his seed
(the ones from his weed!)
that he grows in the attic at night
the way we found out
was when we heard a shout
coz he'd backed himself into a light
the heat from the lamp
mixed with the damp
had caused his rear ending to sizzle
and he cried out in pain
he won't do it again
but if you believe that you can whistle
Master Bates is a comin'
of that we are certain
we can hear as he's poundin' the stairs
he's a scratchin' his itchin'
and I get the feelin'
that none of us here really cares
his stash is all gone
there's no reason for us to
keep hangin' around all the time
and the motel is closed now
and we'll never know how
to grow our own stash, it's a crime
Active Ink Slinger