It was in good repair in 1615. By 1684, it was already a ruin. That collapse, from a working church to a roofless shell, happened within living memory of people who could have attended services there, which gives the site a quietly unsettling quality that pure antiquity does not always produce.

The 1615 date comes from a visitation carried out by Thomas Ram, the Protestant bishop of Ferns, who recorded that the rector at the time, one John Alcock, presided over a church and chancel both in serviceable condition. Just under seventy years later, Robert Leigh, writing in 1684, described it as ruins. The building itself is rectangular, measuring roughly 13.6 metres east to west and just over seven metres north to south, with ivy-covered walls that survive to nearly their original height in places, between two and two and a half metres, and around 85 centimetres thick. The quoins, the dressed stones at the corners of a building that give it structural integrity, are here left undressed, suggesting a modest, functional construction rather than an elaborate one. Two windows remain: a twin-light rectangular opening in the east gable, and a smaller window in the west. The single doorway in the north wall, now patched with brick at some later point, is wide enough, at just over a metre, to suggest it served a regular congregation. The whole sits within a rectangular graveyard defined by earthen banks, on a gentle east-facing slope.