No stone surround, no votive cleft, no trickle of water marks the spot today. What survives is the Irish, which turns out to be unusually specific: Tobairin a Dinigh, meaning the little well of the medicinal draught, a phrase that suggests this was never simply a sacred spring but one associated with a particular curative purpose.

The well also carries a local English name, the Surfeit Well, recorded by O'Donoghue in 1986. A surfeit, in older usage, referred to illness brought on by excess, particularly of food or drink, and wells bearing this name were traditionally credited with treating exactly that complaint. The pairing of the Irish and English names points to a site with a reasonably specific folk-medical reputation, one that presumably drew visitors with a particular complaint rather than functioning as a general site of pilgrimage or pattern. That kind of specialisation is not unusual among holy wells, which across Ireland were frequently associated with distinct ailments, from eye complaints to skin conditions, though the surfeit attribution is comparatively rare in the Cork record.

The well now leaves no visible surface trace, buried or lost within cultivated ground. Its location on a north-facing slope in tillage means there is nothing for a visitor to find in any conventional sense. It persists only in the placename and in the written record, a site whose interest is now almost entirely linguistic and folkloric rather than physical.