It stands in the south-western corner of an old sub-rectangular graveyard on a gently raised promontory above the flood plain of the River Nore, which runs roughly eighty metres to the west. The situation is quietly anomalous, a solitary wall end presiding over a burial ground, the rest of the structure long since gone.

By 1839, when the Ordnance Survey Letters were compiled, only the western gable already remained upstanding. The surveyors were still able to trace the foundations at that point, recording a building roughly twelve metres in length and five and a half metres wide, with walls over a metre thick. What happened next accounts for the near-total disappearance even of those remains. According to the historian William Carrigan, writing in 1905, the ruined walls stood in that state until around 1847, when most of what was left was cleared away to make room for a new family vault belonging to the Stannard-Lanigan family. The demolition of an already-ruined medieval church to accommodate a nineteenth-century burial vault is not an uncommon story in rural Ireland, but it does give the surviving gable an oddly layered significance: it endured not because it was preserved, but simply because it was not in the way.