To the tune of The First Noel
The first motel
A-long the highway,
Was for certain poor strangers a place to stay.
A place to stay
Where it was spooky to be,
So-o close to Norman Bates’ family.
Motel, motel, motel, motel,
Born is the king of psycho-hell.
And in show-ers of blood
The end is nigh,
Mama’s dead in her rocker up in the sky.
While Norman cries,
While Norman cries,
And watches you with his psycho eyes.
Oh hell, motel
You can scream, you can yell!
Don’t check in at the Bates Motel.
by James Earl Jones