What catches the attention is not its size, roughly eight metres north to south and eighteen metres east to west in a roughly D-shaped outline, but the silence of its grave markers. The low stones that remain carry no inscriptions. No names, no dates, no epitaphs. Whoever lies here has been anonymous in stone, possibly for centuries.

The burial ground sits immediately south of the ruins of Ballydaly church, and the two features belong together in the way that ecclesiastical remains and their associated graveyards so often do across rural Ireland, one falling into disuse alongside the other. By the time the Ordnance Survey cartographers were recording the area in 1842, the site was already historical rather than active, a place being named and mapped rather than tended. Today the ground is heavily overgrown, the D-shaped enclosure softened by vegetation to the point where its outline requires some patience to read. The uninscribed markers, low and plain, are easy to overlook entirely.