The early eighteenth-century house was abandoned in 1814 when a replacement was constructed to the northeast, and what remains today is a two-storey shell whose most curious feature is its floor plan: a Z-shape, recorded as such on the Ordnance Survey six-inch map of 1842. That irregular geometry speaks to a building that grew and shifted over time rather than one conceived in a single campaign, with projections at either end of the structure pulling the plan into something more angular than the usual Georgian rectangle.

The entrance front, facing south, presents five bays to the world, the stonework weatherslated and the central doorway now blocked. Several of the window openings are blocked too, though some retain their curved and moulded eighteenth-century sills, small details that hint at the care once taken with even the secondary finishes. A cut-limestone cornice runs at eaves level, and above the random rubble walls the gables are constructed in brick, a material that also lines a corner oven in the eastern rear projection, a compact structure measuring roughly 78 centimetres wide, 40 deep, and just 42 centimetres high. The western projection at the front of the house retains a corner fireplace. By 1750, Charles Smith, writing his natural and civil history of Cork, was moved to describe it simply as a good house, which in the understated vocabulary of Georgian topography carried some weight. The cut-stone entrance piers and a lodge to the south have also survived, suggesting the full apparatus of a modest but respectable country estate.

The ruined farm buildings to the north complete a picture of a domestic complex that was neither grand nor negligible, replaced rather than abandoned outright, and quietly bypassed by time once the new house took precedence.