No stonework breaks the surface today, no outline of a wall, nothing to suggest that this slight undulation once held a thatched building where a parish gathered to worship.

The story of the site survives mainly through local memory and a brief mention in the Ordnance Survey Letters, a remarkable 19th-century collection in which scholars travelling Ireland recorded place names, folklore, and field monuments. The entry compiled by O'Flanagan in 1927 (drawing on earlier material) describes only two small stumps of a ruined church beside an old burial ground. But oral tradition preserved something the stonework could not: that the building had originally served a landlord as a barn for threshing corn, and was later converted into a place of worship. Its roof was thatched, and the thatching itself was divided by parish geography, with people from the upper part of the parish responsible for one side and those from the lower part responsible for the other. That kind of communal labour, where the very slope of a roof encoded local social boundaries, tells you something about how a congregation understood its own internal geography. A 19th-century church may now occupy the same ground, which would explain why no earlier fabric has survived above the surface.