It measures roughly ten metres east to west and six metres north to south, rising only about sixty centimetres above the surrounding ground. That modest rise conceals something considerably older: a built-up tomb, the kind of stone-lined burial structure in which the covering slab was once accidentally shifted, exposing human bones beneath.

The disturbance and the bones were both recorded in the 1940s through the Irish Topographical Archive, which gathered local knowledge and field observations from around the country during that period. At the time of that survey, the field containing the mound was known locally as the Chapel Field, a name that carried an obvious implication of some earlier religious or funerary significance on the site. What is quietly unsettling is that by the time more recent investigators came to document the mound, that name and any memory of a chapel had entirely disappeared from local knowledge. Whether the "chapel" designation referred to a genuine ecclesiastical structure, an early medieval burial enclosure, or simply a long-standing folk explanation for the presence of old bones and stonework, nobody now seems to know. The mound itself has not been excavated in any recorded systematic way, so the age and character of the burial remain uncertain beyond the basic fact of its existence and the glimpse of it that the displaced capstone briefly allowed.