eye of the day

they called me margaretha the day that i was born

the day i died the soldiers called me h21

in the circuses and palaces

a hundred names i've borne

from the belle of the epoque to eye of the storm

but if anybody asks

i named myself after the sun

i was a teacher when i was young

but i ran away from home

to the east indies and warm

warm sun

to wed a man i did not know

he called me lady mccleod

but the times did not allow

my complaints as drinking dragged him down

so in dancing peace i found

they called me a tourist when i began to dance

an amateur and courtesan when i came to france

on the stages

in the salons

i held my tongue

i was never owned by any man nor known by anyone

and if anybody asks

i named myself after the sun

i never cared much for their war

i had seen men fight before

seen the sickness in their esprit de corps

i would dance for them no more

they came to take me away

from the hotel champs elysee

told the soldiers i'd nothing to say

they wouldn't have listened anyway

too many men had died

and somebody had to pay

they set a date for my dying day

but as i stood in that killing field

refusing a blindfold

staring down the soldiers and the hatred of the world

i felt the warmth of the malay sun and i smiled for them all

they all thought they had the best of me

but not one of them could say what i was called

just before the darkness came

i whispered my real name

i am mata hari

eye of the day

in the cells my body lay unclaimed

if anybody asks

i named myself after the sun