Most industrial ruins of this kind collapse into illegibility, but enough survives here to read the building's internal logic: two interlocking rectangular blocks, opposing doorways, ranked windows at every floor level, and the faint ghost of plaster still clinging to one interior wall. The putlogs, small holes left in the masonry where timber floor joists were once inserted, are set close together in a pattern consistent with regular cut planks, suggesting a carefully fitted-out working interior rather than a rough agricultural shed.

The nineteenth-century structure that stands today almost certainly replaced something older. The Civil Survey of 1654 to 1656, a Cromwellian-era land valuation that recorded the economic resources of Irish estates in considerable detail, noted a mill on this site, meaning water-powered grain processing had been taking place here for at least two centuries before the current walls were raised. The fabric of the later building is limestone rubble laid in rough courses, with more carefully worked blocks used at the quoins, the dressed corner stones that give a wall its structural stability and a building its visual definition. Brick appears only sparingly, mainly as infill and as a surround framing the doorway on the north end of the west wall of the eastern block, a small detail that hints at the incremental, makeshift repairs common to working mill buildings across the nineteenth century.