Just to the east of a roughly circular earthwork in pasture near Dromin, the name points to a site where execution and burial appear to have overlapped, and where the ground itself has occasionally confirmed as much. During tillage operations over the years, human bones have been turned up here, surfacing from beneath farmland that otherwise gives little away.

The circular earthwork, measuring approximately sixty metres on its north-west to south-east axis, was already visible on the Ordnance Survey six-inch map of 1842, marked by a broken line that suggests its boundaries were even then uncertain or eroded. A slight rise remains detectable across the area. The site lies around a hundred metres north-east of a moated site, a type of medieval enclosure typically consisting of a raised platform surrounded by a water-filled ditch, often associated with Anglo-Norman settlement in Ireland. The proximity of the two features may not be coincidental. Writing in 1939, the scholar P. J. Hartnett recorded the local placename and its association with the gallows, suggesting that whatever function this ground once served, some memory of it had survived in the Irish language long after the physical evidence had been swallowed by pasture.

The conjunction of a gallows field, a possible burial ground, and a nearby medieval enclosure sketches out a landscape of local authority and its consequences, the kind of administrative and judicial machinery that medieval landholders exercised over the people around them. Whether those buried here were executed criminals, plague victims, unbaptised infants in what would have been termed a cillín, or simply parishioners of a long-forgotten chapel, the ground has not yet offered a clear answer.