The combination is not unique in Ireland, where later communities frequently appropriated prehistoric or early medieval monuments for their own purposes, but the particulars here are quietly strange. The grave yard is irregular and unenclosed, measuring roughly thirteen metres long and less than five metres wide, and the stones that mark the graves are, by any account, haphazardly arranged rather than laid out in the orderly rows one might expect.

What is especially telling is where within the rath the markers are concentrated. Most of them lie along the top and inner slopes of the rath's own bank, the raised earthen rim of the original enclosure. Whether this was a matter of practicality, of finding ground that was raised and perhaps drier, or whether the bank itself carried some residual sense of significance that made it a preferred place of burial, is not recorded. The rath predates the burials by many centuries, and the act of burying the dead within its bounds, on the very fabric of its structure, speaks to the long habit in rural Ireland of layering the living and the dead across the same ground without much ceremony about which era claimed it first.