No plaque marks the spot today. No street name preserves the memory with any clarity. What survives is a single cartographic ghost: the label "Gallows Hill" on John Rocque's celebrated 1760 map of the County of Dublin, floating above an eminence that the city has since swallowed without ceremony.

Rocque's map, produced by the French-born surveyor and engraver who mapped Dublin in extraordinary detail during the mid-eighteenth century, is one of the most valuable documents for understanding how the city looked before Georgian expansion reshaped it. His notation of "Gallows Hill" places the site somewhere to the south of the old city, though historians have not been able to pin down its precise location. Francis Elrington Ball, writing in 1900, and Weston St. John Joyce, whose 1988 work on Dublin's place-names draws on earlier topographical research, both reference the site, but neither supplies coordinates precise enough to settle the question. What can be said is that elevated ground on the edge of a city was the conventional choice for a gallows; the visibility was the point, the spectacle being considered as much a part of the punishment as the execution itself.

Because the site has not been precisely located, there is no specific address to visit, and any attempt to stand at the exact spot would involve a degree of guesswork. A practical approach for the curious is to consult a copy of Rocque's 1760 map, which is held in various libraries and archives in Dublin and is also reproduced in several published works on the city's history. Comparing the old map against a modern street plan of the south city, with attention to any surviving rises in the ground, offers the kind of detective work the site seems to invite. The uncertainty is itself part of what makes it interesting: a place of considerable civic significance, used for generations, that has slipped out of the official record almost entirely.