Crossword clues for tin hat
WordNet
n. a lightweight protective helmet (plastic or metal) worn by construction workers [syn: hard hat, safety hat]
Wikipedia
Tin hat can refer to:
- A waterproof hat made of oil-finished cloth, traditionally associated with those who work outdoors in rainy conditions such as loggers
- Kettle hat, part of medieval armour
- Tin hat (military), the Brodie helmet of World Wars one and two (which is also the origin of the UK phrase "put the tin hat on [something]")
As a proper noun, Tin Hat can refer to:
- Tin Hat Linux, a Linux distribution
- Tin Hat, formerly known as the Tin Hat Trio, an acoustic chamber music group currently based in San Francisco, California
- Tinfoil hat, a headpiece associated with paranoia
Usage examples of "tin hat".
You think I'm a coward because I keep my gas mask and tin hat on when there are Jerries about.
A fire-watcher in a blue blouse and a tin hat was crossing the roof from the house next door, striding towards them with all the importance of half a uniform built into his cocky swagger.
The lieutenant, instead of a British-style tin hat, wore a domed steel helmet that looked very modern and martial.
His tin hat was cocked at an angle on his head, and when he popped a wet kitchen match on his thumbnail and lit a cigar stub in the corner of his mouth and then crinkled his eyes at me, a shaft of morning sunlight struck his hat and flashed as bright as a heliograph.
A naval officer, in a uniform that had been in the water and parts of a soldier's equipment, hurried towards a bus, smiling and touching his tin hat to either side as the women shouted at him and clapped him on the shoulder.
If he ever - got through grammar school I'll eat your tin hat, paint and all.
If he ever - got through grammar school Ill eat your tin hat, paint and all.
He clapped the tin hat on his head and stamped his heavy gumboots across to the Number Three shaft.
I walked on the same way, wrong side, got a ride at Kerby from a blond used-car dealer to Grants Pass, and there, after a fat cowboy in a gravel truck with a malicious grin on his face deliberately tried to run over my rucksack in the road, I got a ride from a sad logger boy in a tin hat going very fast across a great swooping up and down dream valley thruway to Canyonville, where, as in a dream, a crazy store-truck full of gloves for sale stopped and the driver, Ernest Petersen, chatting amiably all the way and insisting that I sit on the seat that faced him (so that I was being zoomed down the road backward) took me to Eugene Oregon.