Silly Joe Sings!


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Upcoming Events

  • Jan 26 PJ Library Event at JCC Wilmington, DE
  • Mar 5 Corbit-Calloway Memorial Library Odessa, DE
  • Apr 16 Aston Public Library Aston, PA
  • May 30 Linvilla Orchards Strawberry Festival Media, PA
  • Jun 23 Amelia Givin Library Mt. Holly Springs, PA

Silly Joe Writes!

Books!  Books!  Books! 

Coming soon from Schiffer Books, Big Billy and the Ice Cream Truck that Woudln't Stop! 

Like Big Billy?  Check out my buddy Joe Simko's work.  He's the illustrator of Big Billy with a series of his own called Sweet Rot.

Looking for something more adult?  Here's a novel for teens and adults called Sporks!  about life in an all boys Catholic School.  If you went there, you'll understand.

Dad's Car

Silly Joe
Music and Lyrics by Joe Consiglio


I was taking Lizzie to a swim lesson, a task my wife usually performed, when Lizzie said, "Daddy I like riding in your car."  I sensed a backhanded compliment, but I needed to know, so I asked why.  She said, "Because you don't care if the lollipop sticks to the seat."  The verses are a description of my car on that particular day.

But the chorus is from my own childhood.  My dad used to take us down to Union Street for water ice on hot summer evenings.  He always had papers from the credit union and sheet music from the church choir floating around the back seat.  The car had vinyl seats and no air conditioning, so the windows were always down, and the papers flew.  But he never cared.

We recorded the song using my dad's ukulele.  My mom had given it to me when my dad fell ill.  Before we recorded the vocals my producer Brett and I spent a long time talking about our dads.  Brett had lost his dad to cancer.  At a certain point, we both grew silent.  So I said, let's go sing.  If you listen to the voices in the chorus, you'll hear the love we were feeling for our own dads.  After all these years, this is still my favorite Silly Joe song and recording.


Dad’s Car

Guitar Chords: C-G-D

It’s not like Mom’s van. 

It’s not exactly spic-n-span.

He’s got balled up tissues by his feet,

And an REM tape under the seat.

It’s Dad’s car, Dad’s car, Dad’s car, Dad’s car.

He’s got Burger King wrappers everywhere. 

They spill out the doors but he don’t care.

Four pair of sunglasses he can’t find,

Four hundred receipts and a ball of twine.

It’s Dad’s car, Dad’s car, Dad’s car, Dad’s car.

It’s Dad’s car, Dad’s car, Dad’s car, Dad’s car.

We’re riding with the windows down,

Stuff flying ‘round in Dad’s car, Dad’s car.

We never get too far,

Just cruisin’ town in Dad’s car.

He’s got old newspapers in the trunk,

Assorted tools and other junk,

A box of stuff from ’93,

Old smelly shoes and a gift for me.

It’s Dad’s car, Dad’s car, Dad’s car, Dad’s car.

It’s Dad’s car, Dad’s car, Dad’s car, Dad’s car.