It came to light not through any planned excavation but through the ordinary business of laying a concrete path. In 1961, the landowner, digging foundations, struck something that turned out to be a cist, a type of small stone-lined burial box used in prehistoric Ireland and Britain, typically constructed from upright slabs fitted together to form a tight chamber.

Once the National Museum was notified, an excavation followed, recorded by Rynne in 1962. What emerged was a carefully made rectangular structure, its four sides each formed from a single upright stone slab, braced on the outside by small packing stones to hold them steady. Resting on top of these walls, a set of horizontally placed support stones carried six overlapping capstones, creating a sealed lid over the chamber below. The interior dimensions were modest even by cist standards: roughly 48 centimetres along the longer axis, 30 centimetres across, and 50 centimetres deep, cut into sandy, gravelly subsoil. On the natural gravel floor inside lay a deposit of cremated human bone. There were no grave-goods of any kind, no pottery, no tools, no ornaments, nothing to indicate who was buried here or precisely when, beyond the broad prehistoric period that cist burials generally suggest.

The site is no longer accessible or visible. A house now covers the location entirely, which means this particular burial exists only in the excavation record and the memory of its brief exposure to daylight in 1961.