The rectangular structure measures roughly 18 metres east to west and 9 metres north to south, built from uncoursed red sandstone rubble, meaning the stones were laid without the regular horizontal rows you would find in more formal masonry. Only three walls survive, and the interior is entirely inaccessible, blocked by a burial vault and years of dense overgrowth. The west wall is gone entirely, leaving the shell open to the sky on that side, though you would have to fight through the vegetation to confirm it.

What makes the state of the building quietly striking is the contrast with how it was once described. A Royal Visitation of 1615, a formal ecclesiastical inspection carried out across Irish parishes in the years following the Reformation, recorded the building as a church and chancel well repaired. At that point it was functioning, maintained, and clearly in regular use. The graveyard that encloses the ruin continued to serve the local community well after the building itself fell out of use, and the headstones surviving there date from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, suggesting the ground retained its significance long after the roof came down. The shift from a well-kept parish church to an ivy-consumed shell, watched over by gravestones rather than a congregation, happened gradually across those intervening centuries, though the precise timeline is not recorded.