Yes, this song title is listed in the DT but the second and last verses are missing some lines according to my copy of SONGS OF THE LATE CHARLES DIBDIN, 1854 edition, pp. 7-8. What's in the DT runs:

NOTHING LIKE GROG

A plague on those musty old lubbers,
Who tell us to fast and think,
And patient fall in with life's rubbers
With nothing but water to drink.
A can of good stuff, had they twigg'd it
Would have sent them for pleasure agog;
And in spite of the rules.
And in spite of the rules of the schools.
The old fools would have all of 'em swigg'd it
And swore there was nothing like grog.

My father, when last I from Guinea
Return'd with abundance of wealth,
Cried, "Jack, never be such a ninny
To drink." Says I, "father, your health."
So I pass'd round the stuff soon he twigg'd it,
And swore there was nothing like grog.

One day, when the Chaplain was preaching,
Behind him I curiously slunk,
And, while he our duty was teaching,
As how we should never get drunk,
I tip't him the stuff, and he twigg'd it,
Which soon set his rev'rence agog.
And he swigg'd; and Nick swigg'd,
And Ben swigg'd, and Dick swigg'd,
And I swigg'd, and all of us swigg'd it,
And swore there was nothing like grog.

Then trust me, there's nothing as drinking
So pleasant on this side the grave;
It keeps the unhappy trom thinking,
And makes e'en more valiant the brave.
Wind foully or fairly,
I've constantly swigg'd it,
And dam'me there's nothing like grog.

From Humor in American Song, Loesser
@drink
filename[ NOTHGROG
TUNE FILE: NOTHGROG

The second verse should read in full:

My father, when last I from Guinea
Return'd with abundance of wealth,
Cried, "Jack, never be such a ninny
To drink." Says I, "Father, your health."
So I pass'd round the stuff - soon he twigg'd it,
AND IT SET THE OLD CODGER AGOG;
AND HE SWIGG'D, AND MOTHER,
AND SISTER AND BROTHER,
AND I SWIGG'D, AND ALL OF US SWIGG'D IT,
And swore there was nothing like grog.

The last verse should run:

Then trust me, there's nothing as drinking
So pleasant on this side the grave:
It keeps the unhappy From thinking,
And makes e'en THE valiant MORE brave.
FOR ME, FROM THE MOMENT I TWIGG'D IT,
THE GOOD STUFF HAS SO SET ME AGOG,
SICK OR WELL, LATE OR EARLY,
Wind foully or fairly,
I've constantly swigg'd it,
AH dam'me! there's nothing like grog.

Charles Dibdin (1745-1831) should be credited as composer.

Cheerily,
Charley Noble