Bacchus

You, Dionysus? No, that can't be true!
Bacchus, the son of Zeus I know, not you!
He smells of nectar, you just smell of goats!
Grape-less!
The Celts pour barley down their throats,
So you're less "Bacchus" than "Back-to-the-Earth,"
Your oats are tame, not wild;
In flour, not fire your birth!