The burial ground, roughly 72 metres north to south and 83 metres east to west, curves from northwest through north to northeast, a shape that often signals an early medieval enclosure beneath later use. Within the northern quadrant stands the roofless shell of a Church of Ireland building, its walls still upright but the interior open to the sky. The headstones scattered across the ground span three centuries, the earliest bearing the date 1748, though the site's story does not begin there.

Both Patrick Power, writing in 1908, and the Ordnance Survey Letters, compiled in the nineteenth century and later published by Michael O'Flanagan in 1930, record that an earlier church once stood on this hill. Neither source elaborates much beyond the fact of it, and today there is nothing to see at ground level that would confirm it. The church that does survive, in ruin, is the later Protestant one; whatever preceded it has left no visible trace. This is not unusual in Ireland, where early ecclesiastical sites were repeatedly reused over centuries, each new building quietly absorbing or erasing the evidence of the last. The commanding position of the hill, with open views in every direction, is itself a clue that this was not an incidental choice of location.

The graveyard remains in use and the site is accessible, sitting prominently on its hilltop. The ruined church in the northern section is the obvious focus, but the surrounding headstones reward a closer look, particularly for anyone interested in local family names across the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The absence of the earlier church, the thing that is not there, is in its own way the most thought-provoking aspect of the place.