Well, for me it'd change by the day or the week. There are new songs all the time (I know, I write 'em) and old songs. There are sad and glad and mad and dad songs, funny-once and funny-always and funny-never songs, tear songs and beer songs and deer, dear, and John Deere songs, morning songs and mourning songs, noon-day and June day, Sundays and Mondays and Saturday Night (which everybody loves!). Ballads and blues and laments and lyrics and news and nostalgia and smut and piety and ... it seems the list goes on and on, like the road, forever.

I wouldn't sing 'em if I didn't like 'em, I wouldn't like 'em if I didn't care. I wouldn't care if you didn't listen, There's a lot of good songs out there.

(To quote Bob Zentz).

I do return, however, to some favorites, not all of which I wrote. Of course, whatever I'm currently writing or learning or otherwise working on, polishing, demolishing, trashing or rehashing, gets sung in the odd moment (and my friends know I choose some of the oddest moments), but I never let "Seven Beers" or "Harbors of Home" or "Rambling Boy" or "Ode" get far out of practice. If I were on the gallows, and had to choose only one last request to sing, I'm afraid the hangman would finally just pull the damned lever, 'cause I'd never make up my mind.