According to local legend recorded around this spring in Ballingarry, County Limerick, the water would relocate itself if anyone attempted to wash clothes in it, a warning against treating sacred water as a domestic convenience. It is the kind of belief that tells you something about how seriously these sites were regarded, and how a community maintained that regard through folklore when formal religious observance began to fade.

The folklorist Caoimhín Ó Danachair documented this well in 1955, noting that it appeared on the Ordnance Survey map of 1840 as St Peter and St Paul's Well, suggesting a long-standing dedication to the two apostles whose feast day falls on the 29th of June. At the time of Ó Danachair's fieldwork, the well itself was still intact, a clear spring sheltered beneath a small stone structure of the kind common to Irish holy wells, where a simple corbelled or capped enclosure protects the source. No formal rounds were being performed by then, but people within living memory of his informants had carried out the traditional circumambulations, walking a set number of circuits around the well, usually in a clockwise direction, as a form of devotional prayer. Rags and cloth strips had also been tied to an old thorn tree growing beside the well, a practice found across Ireland in which the cloth was thought to carry illness or petition away from the person who left it. That thorn tree has since gone.

Ballingarry village sits in south County Limerick, and the well lies in the surrounding townland area. Because the stone structure was recorded as surviving in the mid-twentieth century, it may still be present, though its current condition is not documented here. Anyone visiting should approach with the understanding that these sites, while not formally maintained for religious practice, remain meaningful to local communities. The absence of the thorn tree removes one of the more visually distinctive features such wells typically carry, but the spring and its cover structure, if intact, are worth examining as a modest but genuine survival of a devotional landscape that was once far more active than it appears today.