Cobra in the Car

There is a cobra in the car.
I must have left the door ajar.
I cannot come to where you are.
There is a cobra in the car.

The window is rolled down a bit.
I wonder, was that me, or it?
I won't approach that window slit.
I understand some cobras spit.

I'm pretty sure, in a cartoon,
I saw a swami play a tune
That made a cobra sway and swoon.
I need to locate my bassoon.

That cobra has two fangs, and in 'em
Lurks a squirt of deadly venom.
Yep, those fangs have venom in 'em.
I wonder if they bite through denim?

I cannot come to where you are
Until that cobra leaves the car
But such is life, and there you are.
There is a cobra in the car.