They were significant enough to be named on the Ordnance Survey's six-inch map of 1842, yet by the time the revised edition appeared in 1905, the name had been dropped, the wells reduced to an unnamed mark on the landscape. Whatever devotion once attached to them had, it seems, already begun to fade.

The two wells are structurally distinct despite their proximity. The northernmost is oval in shape and partially lined with concrete, reached by descending two steps on its north-eastern side. The southernmost is rectangular and fully concrete-lined, fed by water piped from its neighbour and draining outward toward the river. A stone wall encloses both, and this has been recently repaired, suggesting that someone, at some point, thought the site worth preserving even if its original purpose is no longer practised. Holy wells in Ireland were typically focal points for patterns, the local term for gatherings involving prayer, procession, and often the leaving of votive offerings such as rags or coins at the water's edge. Here, there is no visible sign of any such ongoing use.

The alleyway approach from Barnane Walk is narrow, and the wells are easy to miss. What remains is essentially a small piece of vernacular infrastructure, the concrete and stonework practical rather than ornate, with the Blackwater running close by to the north. The gap between the cartographic record and what a visitor finds on the ground is itself part of the story: a named place that lost its name, a sacred site that lost its practice, but kept its water.