These are not the only intrusions: grave slabs in the northern section are terraced into the natural slope of the land, many displaced, slipped, or overlapping one another, as if the earth itself has grown impatient with the weight of centuries pressing down on it. The site is irregular in shape, roughly forty metres east to west and extending some eighty metres north to south along a narrow south-western strip, enclosed by a stone wall whose gently curving western face politely steps aside to make room for a laneway leading to a holy well about fifty metres to the west.

What the graveyard surrounds makes the compression of centuries here legible. At its south-west of centre stands a round tower, the tall, tapering stone structures built by early Irish monasteries that served variously as bell towers, landmarks, and places of refuge. Grave slabs radiate outward from its base in a deliberate circle. Built into a 15th or 16th-century doorway on the tower's north side is a cross-slab, a carved stone of the early Christian period, reused as a lintel, which is precisely the kind of casual recycling that speaks to how continuously this ground has been occupied and reorganised. A fragment of another cross-slab stands upright in the northern end of the graveyard. Samuel Lewis, writing in 1837, noted that a small church once stood near the tower, though no above-ground trace of it remains today. A stone altar, probably late medieval in date and possibly from that vanished church, survives in the eastern half of the graveyard, about sixteen metres north-east of the tower. The round tower and cross-slabs point back to an early medieval monastery said to have been founded here in the early seventh century by St. Crónán, also known as Mo-Chúa, who died in 637 AD.

Among the grave slabs themselves, most are horizontal and roughly cut, their inscriptions worn away by weathering. Where dates can still be read, they belong to the 18th and 19th centuries. One sandstone slab in the south-west, appearing to date to 1745, carries a design carved in crude low relief: a skull, crossbones, a coffin, and a heart, the standard iconography of mortality that crops up across Irish and Scottish burial grounds of the period, but no less striking for being familiar. The central section of the graveyard is more ordered, its slabs arranged in even rows; it is in the north and east, where the ground slopes and the density of burials is highest, that the sense of accumulated time becomes most physically apparent.