The problem is that nobody can find it, and nobody locally seems to remember it ever being there. Its entire existence rests on a single cartographic moment: a marking on the 1940 edition of the Ordnance Survey six-inch map, which recorded a small roofstone and its supporting uprights. A megalithic tomb, in its simplest form, is a prehistoric funerary monument built from large stones, typically comprising a chamber roofed by one or more capstones. Whatever once stood at Aughnamaulmeen, no physical trace of it survives on the ground today.

The site sits on a slight north-south spur of land, with valleys and streams lying roughly 600 metres to the west and 700 metres to the east, the kind of subtle elevated position that prehistorical communities sometimes favoured for burial monuments. What makes the Aughnamaulmeen entry quietly compelling is its cluster of neighbouring uncertainties. Around 240 metres to the west-southwest lies another site classified only as a possible megalithic structure, its identification similarly unresolved. Some 350 metres to the north-northeast stands a recorded standing stone, a solitary upright that at least has the advantage of still being visible. Together, the three sites suggest this unremarkable patch of Wexford countryside may once have formed part of a prehistoric landscape of some significance, even if that landscape has now largely dissolved back into the fields.