On the first edition of the Ordnance Survey six-inch map, the old church here sits within a small, triangular enclosure, an irregular shape unusual enough to give pause. By the third edition, surveyed around 1930, that triangle had been redrawn as subcircular and labelled simply "Grave Yd.", as though the land had settled into a more comfortable description. The enclosure that survives today measures roughly 26.6 metres north to south, its tree-lined earthen bank still standing to about 1.1 metres in places and 2.2 metres wide, intact along the southern, western, and northern arcs. Recent bulldozing has reduced sections elsewhere to little more than a low scarp, and a gap on the western side may or may not be an original entrance.

The interior is overgrown and rubble-strewn, but small set stones remain visible to the south and west of the church, oriented east to west in the manner typical of Christian burial. Locally, this graveyard is believed to be a cillín, a term used for informal burial grounds, often associated in Irish tradition with unbaptised infants and others excluded from consecrated ground. These sites, sometimes called children's burial grounds, are found across the country, frequently at marginal or ancient locations, and carry a particular weight in Irish rural memory. The discovery of adult human bones during the bulldozing complicates that reading somewhat, and a deeper uncertainty remains: it is not clear whether the encircling earthwork belongs to the cillín itself or to an earlier ecclesiastical enclosure associated with the church, a distinct feature in its own right. The two possibilities sit side by side without resolution, each plausible, neither confirmed.