The absence of a bawn or boundary suggests this was never a formally enclosed foundation in the usual medieval sense, and the building itself, measuring roughly 16.5 metres east to west and just over 7 metres north to south, is largely buried beneath ivy. Only the south wall survives to anything approaching its full height, and even there the single architectural feature is a narrow slit window with rough, unworked jambs, the kind of opening that required no mason's skill to produce.

That simplicity is itself informative. The crudeness of the window and the complete absence of dressed or worked stone point to a probable 18th-century date, which would place the church's construction squarely within the period of the Penal Laws, when Catholics in Ireland were prohibited from building conspicuous places of worship. A 1942 survey recorded a local association with that era, and the building is still known in the area as St. Brigid's Church. The walls are of roughly coursed limestone rubble, functional rather than decorative, the kind of construction that speaks to urgency and limited resources rather than institutional confidence. The site sits in company with a holy well to the south and a children's burial ground to the north, the sort of cluster that in rural Ireland often marks a much older sacred landscape repurposed across the centuries.