Just over a metre tall, the stone at Galboola sits on an east-facing slope, its edges worn smooth not by centuries of ritual handling but by generations of cattle using it as a scratching post. The ground around its base has been poached, churned soft and lower than the surrounding pasture, by hooves circling the stone over many years. Whatever purpose the people who erected it had in mind, livestock have long since claimed it as their own.

The stone itself is limestone, sub-rectangular in plan, measuring 0.57 metres in length and 0.28 metres in thickness, with its long axis running east to west. It narrows slightly towards the top and is roughly rectangular when viewed from the side. Natural fissures run along the base of both the east and west faces, a feature of the stone's geology rather than any human working. Standing stones are among the most enigmatic of prehistoric monuments; erected singly, they are notoriously difficult to date without associated finds or excavation, and their original function remains genuinely uncertain. They may have marked boundaries, burial sites, routeways, or served purposes that have left no other trace. The Galboola example was recorded by Denis Power and uploaded to the national record in October 2013.

The stone stands in pasture, so access depends on the usual courtesies of approaching farmland. The east-facing slope means morning light falls directly onto the face where the natural fissures are most visible. At just over a metre in height it is easy to overlook from a distance, sitting low against the field rather than breaking the skyline. The depression worn into the earth around its base is one of the more immediate things to notice on arrival, a ring of softer ground that gives a strange sense of the stone being slowly, gently consumed by the landscape it has occupied for so long.