What makes this one quietly arresting is the combination of dense overgrowth and deliberate enclosure: a well-built stone wall, up to half a metre thick and running to roughly 33 metres by 15.5 metres, contains an interior so thoroughly colonised by briars that very little of what lies within can be seen. A large crucifix mounted mid-way along the southern wall faces inward, addressing an audience it can no longer easily reach. A cast iron railing, the kind once reserved for family plots of some means, defines a rectangular enclosure to the northern end of the interior, though a mature conifer now obscures it almost entirely.

The earliest datable markers here belong to Thomas Walsh, commemorated in 1784, and John Fitzgerald, in 1823, according to local historian White, writing in 1892. By the time the Ordnance Survey mapped the area in 1840, the graveyard appeared as a sub-oval shape, somewhat smaller than its current footprint, measuring roughly 20 metres by 10 metres. The more substantial rectangular enclosure visible today postdates that survey; White records that the enclosing wall had been erected recently, at the time of his writing, by the Poor Law Guardians. These were the administrative bodies established under the Irish Poor Law Act of 1838 to manage workhouses and local welfare, and their involvement in maintaining or formalising a burial ground speaks to the intersection of civic duty and community burial practice in post-Famine Tipperary. The associated church ruin sits approximately 18 metres to the south.

Access to the interior is via a stone stile set into the southern wall, though some of its stones are missing and the passage is not straightforward. The graveyard sits on a levelled shelf of a north-facing slope in what is now pasture land, and the density of the briar growth means that most of the interior, including whatever headstones may remain beyond the one 19th-century example visible toward the western edge, is effectively hidden from view.