A week or so after the general election of April 1992 several hundred people encircled the Royal High School building in Edinburgh and sang Hamish Henderson's 'Freedom Come All Ye'. This was just one of a number of major events at which this song was sung in the immediate post-election period and for many the election changed it overnight from a respected piece of poetry into a symbol of the constitutional will of the community; it has remained so since. The key is that the words, and in particular the words 'So come all ye at hame wi freedom / Never heed whit the hoodies croak for doom' that flowed over and around that empty parliament building were not written for politicians but for people. At a time when most politicians and journalists were croaking for doom these words were apt and they have been apt ever since, not least when they symbolised the desire for democracy expressed by the crowd of 25,000 people who marched through Edinburgh on December 12, 1992, to be met in the Meadows by more indeterminate croaking from the platform as usual. But in this case the somewhat pathetic 'political' spectacle was given context by the presence and singing of Hamish Henderson himself. For this is what Hamish Henderson does: his words and actions give context, enable things to be seen in perspective. Or to put it another way, he has spent his life doing things which have helped others to discern more easily the cultural and political fault lines and strengths of their situation. Hence his pioneering translations of Gramsci, who understood the importance of seeing that what might seem to be common sense might equally be part of a giant con-trick serving the interests of a particular class. Hence also his writings on songs, folk, and literature collected in Al ias MacAlias . This book was warmly received on publication and it is one of a number of books published in the last few years (including Craig Bcvcridge