Locals have long called it St Patrick's stone, and the name is reinforced by a lightly scratched inscription reading "St Pater" somewhere on its surface, thought to date from between the eighteenth and early twentieth century. That kind of informal marking is typical of devotional stonework across Ireland, where generations of visitors felt the impulse to leave some trace of their own.

Two separate traditions have grown up around the stone, and they pull in slightly different directions. One holds that St Patrick knelt here and left the impression of his knees in the rock; another simply has him sitting in the natural chair the stone provides. A smaller sandstone slab lies just to the west of the boulder, mostly buried in the ground, but its upper surface carries a series of shallow depressions that may correspond to the kneeling tradition, physical evidence, however ambiguous, of repeated contact with the same spot over many centuries. A low sandstone pillar stone, standing around half a metre high, is visible about two and a half metres to the south and appears to belong to the same loose grouping, though its precise relationship to the boulder remains unclear. Taken together, the three stones form a cluster that points to a localised and long-standing pattern of veneration, the kind of place where folk memory and landscape become difficult to separate.