That dislocation is part of what makes it worth pausing over. It is just under a metre tall, thirty centimetres wide, and appears to be a pinnacle, the kind of decorative vertical finial that would originally have crowned a wall monument, one of those elaborate commemorative tablets once common in Irish churches of the post-medieval period. Separated from whatever larger structure it once belonged to, it now rests at the western end of the south side of the chancel, detached from its original context and stripped of whatever inscription or effigies may have accompanied it.

The carving on the piece is careful and considered. The lower portion carries an urn rendered in raised relief, with additional incised detail worked into and around it. Urns of this kind appear frequently in funerary stonework from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, drawn from the wider European vocabulary of commemorative art. Above the urn, the polished surface of the limestone continues with incised geometric ornamentation, the contrast between the raised urn and the flatter geometric work giving the fragment a quiet visual rhythm. The stone itself, a dressed and polished limestone, suggests this was not a modest piece; someone commissioned work that required skill and a degree of expense. What is now lost is the name it was made to preserve.