No headstones, no ruined walls, no visible enclosure; just farmland. What makes the site quietly extraordinary is that the only way anyone has been able to confirm something is actually there is by looking at the parish from a satellite, where a cropmark, the faint differential in vegetation growth that betrays buried stonework beneath a field, traces the outline of the church on imagery captured in August 2015. Immediately to its east, an oval enclosure running roughly 44 metres north-northeast to south-southwest and 36 metres east-southeast to west-northwest may represent the associated graveyard, its shape preserved in the soil long after every above-ground trace was lost.

The historical record is thin but consistent. Writing in 1905, the historian William Carrigan noted that on the sandy rising ground near St Dallan's Well, there had once been both a church and a churchyard, and that both were, in his words, entirely blotted out, a detail he attributed to local tradition rather than surviving fabric. A year later, in 1906, a writer named Commins placed the site in the fields in the direction of Ballybur, and added two pieces of context that help explain why it mattered: the ancient name of Burnchurch was Kiltrayn, and St Dallan was the patron of the parish. Holy wells in Ireland were frequently associated with early Christian figures and often formed the devotional centre of a wider ecclesiastical complex, of which a small church and burial ground would have been typical components. That the well, the church site, and the probable graveyard all sit in close proximity to one another suggests this was once a coherent, if modest, sacred landscape, now legible only in aerial imagery and two brief passages from the early twentieth century.