Let them sing, they will have to pay.

Such a price The Gods exact for song; To become what we sing.

The time when they unite and awaken from slumber; on that day, the day of God, the people will demand payment... Who will pay?

We pay for light, pay for water, next thing you know
We'll pay to breathe harder

Got to pay your dues if you want to sing the blues
And you know it don't come easy.

On golden chairs
Sitting at ease, you paid for the songs which we chanted
To those less lucky. You paid us for drying their tears
And for comforting all those whom you had wounded.

Torture will give a dozen pence or more
To keep a drab from bawling at his door.
The public taste is quite a different thing—
Torture is positively paid to sing.

Gonna cuss an' swear an' here the poetry of folks talkin'.

If you stop to listen to a musician or street performer for more than a minute, you owe them a dollar.

I'm going to build a great, big, and beautiful wall. I'm going to make Rick Riordan pay for it. Those stupid dorki-gods will pay.

When you sit on the money for the poor, they will cry and God will hear them.

Sooner or later we have all to pay for what we do.

Wise men affirm it is the English way
Never to grumble till they come to pay.

Let others write for glory or reward,
Truth is well paid when she is sung and heard.