Nothing about it looks immediately out of the ordinary. But somewhere beneath the grass, the foundations of a vanished Protestant church lie buried, the building itself long since demolished, leaving the ground above it unmarked and the dead around it as the only witnesses to its existence.

The church's disappearance was already a recent memory when nineteenth-century Ordnance Survey correspondents recorded the site. Their letters, later compiled and published by Michael O'Flanagan in 1927, noted that the old Protestant church of the parish had stood within this graveyard and had been in use until a few years before, when it was thrown down, with only its foundations then discernible. Even those foundations have since vanished entirely from the surface. One possible remnant may survive: a finial cross, the kind of decorative terminal element sometimes found atop ecclesiastical gables, has been noted in the southeastern part of the graveyard, and may have belonged to the demolished building. The graveyard itself is enclosed by a mortared stone wall capped with concrete, roughly fifty metres along its northwest-to-southeast axis and forty-four metres across, entered through a gateway to the north. The headstones within range from the eighteenth century through to the twentieth.

About fifty-five metres to the east of the graveyard lies a holy well, a type of site found throughout Ireland, typically associated with a local saint and long used for devotional visits, pattern days, and the leaving of votive offerings. The proximity of church, graveyard, and holy well in a cluster like this is a pattern common to many Irish parishes, where layers of religious practice, pre-Christian and Christian alike, settled into the same small stretch of ground over many centuries.