That modest rise is, or was, a burial ground, and it is one of those places that has spent most of recorded history slipping quietly between the cracks of official documentation. The Ordnance Survey mapped this part of Ireland in 1842 and again in 1904, and on neither occasion did the site make it onto the six-inch sheets. Only by 1937 had it been recorded, appearing as a subrectangular enclosure of approximately thirty metres north to south and twenty metres east to west, its northern edge defined by a field fence and its remaining sides marked only by a dotted line.

When a researcher named Bowman visited in 1934, the scene was spare but legible. There was no surrounding fence, and the site, roughly circular and about twenty-eight yards in diameter, announced itself mainly through that slight elevation above field level. Around six small headstones marked individual graves, which suggests the place had not been entirely forgotten by those with reason to remember it. A church once stood immediately to the north, which is a common enough arrangement in medieval Irish landscapes, where burial grounds and ecclesiastical enclosures occupied adjacent ground, the dead kept close to a place of worship. Whether that association explains the origin of the burial ground is not recorded, but the pairing is suggestive.

Today there is no visible surface trace of the burial ground. The headstones Bowman counted in the 1930s have either gone or been swallowed by subsequent cultivation, and the slight rise in the earth is the only remaining indicator that the ground here was once treated differently from the tillage surrounding it.