So, I often use Tom Waits' "San Diego Serenade" to teach stress meter--I hear it as a kind of non-alliterated strong stress meter, two strong beats, caesura, two strong beats per line. Note that I always have to apologize to my students for line four, where he stresses MEL-o-dy as "mel-O-dy."
San Diego Serenade
I never saw the mornin' 'til I stayed up all night
I never saw the sunshine 'til you turned out the light
I never saw my hometown until I stayed away too long
I never heard the melody until I needed the song
I never saw the white line 'til I was leavin' you behind
I never knew I needed you until I was caught up in a bind
I never spoke "I love you" 'til I cursed you in vain
I never felt my heart strings until I nearly went insane
I never saw the east coast until I moved to the west
I never saw the moonlight until it shone off of your breast
I never saw your heart until someone tried to steal it, tried to steal it away
I never saw your tears until they rolled down your face
I never saw the mornin' 'til I stayed up all night
I never saw the sunshine 'til you turned out your love light babe
I never saw my hometown until I stayed away too long
I never heard the melody until I needed the song
I like to teach it alongside Tichborne's elegy, written in iambic pentameter, because if you SING the elegy, perhaps to the tune of "San Diego Serenade," the five iambs turn into four strong stresses with a caesura in the middle. It illustrates nicely the difference between poetic meter and song rhythm.
Tychbornes Elegie, written with his owne hand in the Tower before his execution
My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
My feast of joy is but a dish of paine,
My Crop of corne is but a field of tares,
And al my good is but vaine hope of gaine.
The day is past, and yet I saw no sunne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
My tale was heard, and yet it was not told,
My fruite is falne, & yet my leaves are greene:
My youth is spent, and yet I am not old,
I saw the world, and yet I was not seene.
My thred is cut, and yet it is not spunne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
I sought my death, and found it in my wombe,
I lookt for life, and saw it was a shade:
I trod the earth, and knew it was my Tombe,
And now I die, and now I was but made.
My glasse is full, and now my glasse is runne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
Enjoy!
Tony
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