What makes it quietly unsettling is not simply its disappearance, but the circumstances recorded before that disappearance was complete. At some point in the nineteenth century, the site was being used as a haggard, the farmyard area where hay or grain would be stored and stacked, while human bones were still visible on the surface of the ground. The dead and the domestic had become, without ceremony, the same patch of soil.

The Ordnance Survey Letters, compiled in the 1830s and later edited by Michael O'Flanagan in 1930, noted that the wall-footings of the associated church were still legible at that time, though the east wall had already gone. The graveyard sat beside this ruined church on a natural rise of ground with open views in all directions, the kind of elevated position that early ecclesiastical settlements in Ireland often sought out, combining practical visibility with a sense of remove from the lower landscape. A castle site lies to the south of the same rise, suggesting that this small area of upland Tipperary once carried considerably more human activity than its present silence would suggest. Nothing of either the burial ground or the church survives above ground today.