Smoke Alarm Dinner Bell

I can't explain it, but mom found the way: How to burn water, day after day. A roast in the oven, all wrapped and well-foiled; Out it emerges well-done and charbroiled. Our oven had many setting, so easy to turn; What went in was for certain to burn. Father worked at a factory, just down the street; on the road and couldn't make it to eat. He explained to mom, he had to eat at some dive; She never called him out, you don't even drive. Father felt sorry when we went hungry to bed; Insisting to read to us, under his coat a loaf of bread. Desert! always treat for my brother and I, very happy we were, when the cat didn't die. Chocolate pudding!...what can possibly go wrong; Sitting on the commode, way way too long. We never realized for all we had to endure; Carbon and charcoal, Mom's built-in cure. I'm sad to say it and sorry to tell, Sometime the smoke, sometimes the smell; the truth about Mom's cooking; And the smoke alarm dinner bell. Any questions?