That alone makes it an oddity. Ogham is an early medieval Irish script, typically carved as a series of notches and strokes along the edge of a stone, and it was used most commonly between roughly the fourth and seventh centuries to record names, often of the dead or of landowners asserting territory. Finding one repurposed as building material, buried inside a souterrain, is a reminder of how casually extraordinary things were sometimes treated once their original function had been forgotten.

The souterrain, a type of underground stone-lined passage associated with early medieval settlements and often used for storage or refuge, was investigated by L. Mongey in 1934. The ogham stone was not standing in place but had been incorporated into the fill, suggesting it had already been displaced from whatever context it originally belonged to before the souterrain itself was abandoned or backfilled. The epigrapher R. A. S. Macalister examined the inscription and published his reading in 1935, later included in his monumental corpus of 1945, where the stone appears as Number 282. His reading of the carved text was AVI DAIMAGNI, a formula meaning roughly "grandson" or "descendant of Daigmacc" or a similar personal name rooted in the element DAIGMN. Such ancestral formulas are common in ogham inscriptions, used to identify a person through their lineage rather than simply by their own name.

The record compiled by Michael Moore and uploaded to the national monument database in May 2011 does not specify where the stone is currently held, which is part of what makes this entry quietly frustrating for anyone who wants to see it in person. The souterrain reference number, WA024-080001, places the original find within the south Dublin city area, but the stone itself has presumably been removed to a museum or repository since its discovery. Anyone researching it would do well to contact the National Museum of Ireland, which holds many such displaced finds. The inscription, though brief, is the kind of thing that rewards a close look with knowledge of the script, a few scratched lines that once served as a permanent record of a name and a lineage, then spent centuries forgotten underground.