It is an easy thing to overlook, rising only about thirty centimetres above the ground at the front, and yet the detail carved into its surface rewards close attention in a way that few graveyard oddities do.

The stone was described in detail by Robert M. Chapple in 2005, and his account makes clear just how considered the carving is, despite its modest scale. The block of limestone measures roughly 29 centimetres wide by 23 centimetres thick, and its upper surface forms a gentle half-cylinder, giving the head a rounded, almost vaulted profile. Whether that curve was chosen because the stone already had it, or was deliberately worked into shape, cannot be determined; the surface shows no obvious chisel marks. The face itself is rendered largely through incised lines, the technique of scratching lines directly into stone, with eyes set high and close to the hairline, a long nose tapering from a narrow bridge, and a mouth carved deeper than the surrounding features, with the chin lowered slightly to throw the lips into low relief. The overall effect, as Chapple observes, is of someone in the act of exhaling or speaking. A semi-circular arch of stylised hair sits across the top of the head, with a V-shaped pair of incised lines at its apex that likely represent a centre parting. Most intriguing are the sets of asymmetrical lines running across both sides of the face; the lower ones appear to form a lopsided moustache where they meet the nose, while a further cluster of lines on one cheek may represent deliberate decoration or may simply be later damage. Neither the date nor the original function of the carving is known with any certainty, though stylistically it is placed somewhere between the late medieval and post-medieval periods, a range that is frustratingly broad but honestly reflects what the stone itself will not give away.