That name alone carries a quiet weight. The mound measures roughly seven and a half metres across and barely rises to three quarters of a metre above the surrounding ground, so it would be easy to walk past it without a second thought. What makes it harder to dismiss are the two small upright stones at the eastern edge of a central depression, which, according to local tradition, mark actual burials.

The mound itself belongs to a broad class of earthen burial monuments found across Ireland, raised over the dead at some point in prehistory, though the precise date of this one is not recorded. The central depression, around forty-five centimetres deep, is a common feature of such mounds, sometimes the result of collapse over an underlying burial chamber or cist, sometimes the consequence of earlier, less careful investigation. The two upright stones, standing at sixty-one and fifty-three centimetres respectively, are modest in scale but deliberate in placement, and the local memory attaching burials to them suggests a continuity of understanding about the site that has outlasted any formal documentation. That the surrounding land was at some point reclaimed for pasture adds a certain irony; the agricultural reshaping of the landscape stopped just short of this small, named rise.