The slab is broken into several pieces across its middle section, and its upper portion, including whatever cross-head once crowned it, is entirely gone. What remains, though, is enough to show that this was once a carefully worked object: the edges are chamfered, meaning they are cut at a slanted angle rather than left square, giving the stone a refined, finished quality that signals deliberate craftsmanship rather than a rough field marker.

The decoration carved in high relief along the surviving lower portion suggests the slab once bore a floriated cross, a cross type whose arms end in leaf or flower forms, popular in medieval funerary carving across Ireland. The shaft that remains terminates in a fleur-de-lis, the stylised lily motif familiar from heraldry, with leaves springing outward from the shaft on either side. The total length of the slab, pieced together, runs to roughly 1.57 metres, and even in its fractured state the tapering form is clear, widest at the top and narrowing toward the foot end, following a convention common in medieval grave markers. There is no inscription anywhere on the surviving surface, so the identity of whoever lies beneath it remains unknown.

The slab sits close to the east gable of the Church of Ireland building, and visitors prepared to look carefully at ground level will find the pieces laid out in rough sequence. The middle section is badly fragmented into four incomplete pieces, but the lower portion is intact and gives the clearest sense of the original carving. The graveyard setting, with its layered centuries of use, means the slab sits among much later stones, which makes its medieval character all the more striking by contrast.