I stumbled on this complete musical oddity, a piece of country gothic, all illness and loneliness and dark dreaming. The song is sung by the daughter of American folk music legend, Woodie Guthrie. Grim, perverse, surreal and kind of beautiful. Love Susie. x

Emily’s Illness

They make me drink

A lot of hot things

Assorted pills

In the evenings

Late at night I lie in bed

And feel the blood

Pouring through my veins

It slightly rubs with an annoying pain

Through the window near the bed

On which I lie

Through the restless night

I hear the sky softly getting light

The nights are unbearable

At least there's music in the day

Music to rise from my blood like vapor

Ill vapor from bad blood

I know I'm not well

But it doesn't frighten me anymore

Mother's sure I'll get well

But think what shе will

Her Emily's ill

She blames it on thе music I play

She thinks that it's crazy

It's not really crazy

It's just a bit ill

I think I'll die soon

And when the time comes

My many veins I'll rip

And let them run

On music manuscript

My finale will have said

All I have to say

And when my blood is let

My friend will play it on the clarinet

He'll play my piece

At Carnegie Hall

I hope they don't

Record it backwards

That's all