The well, barely a metre across, is built in the drystone tradition, meaning its walls are held together by the careful fitting of stone on stone rather than any mortar. Four stone steps cut into its south-eastern side once allowed people to descend and draw water; now they lead down to an empty basin. It is dedicated to Our Lady, and the absence of water has done little to interrupt the quiet traffic of devotion.

Holy wells have been focal points of Irish religious life for centuries, absorbing older patterns of veneration into Christian practice. The offerings left at this one follow a familiar grammar. A few metres to the north-east, a low drystone cairn supports a small wooden cabinet housing a statue and fresh flowers. On a nearby tree hang old rags and rosary beads, the rags a trace of a once-widespread custom of tying strips of cloth, sometimes called clooties, to branches near a sacred water source, often as a petition or act of thanksgiving. The cloth was left to decay, the intention being that as it rotted, so too would an ailment or a difficulty. The rosary beads mark a more recognisably Catholic layer of practice, sitting comfortably alongside the older gesture. The two traditions have long coexisted at sites like this without any apparent contradiction.