What marks it as anything other than a field curiosity is a single crude cross, scratched into the upper surface of one of the well stones. That carving is, as far as anyone can tell, the only physical sign that this was ever considered a sacred place.

When the antiquarian Grove White visited in 1908, he found that a handful of people still came to perform rounds here, the traditional ritual of circumambulating a holy well a set number of times while praying, in the hope of curing sore eyes. The well was associated, then, with the very specific folk-healing function that many Irish holy wells carried for particular ailments. But even Grove White observed that it did not look much frequented. The path running alongside the stream nearby is still known locally as the mass path, a term that typically refers to routes used by communities travelling to Mass during the Penal era, when Catholic worship was officially suppressed and people gathered at outdoor or informal sites. That name suggests the area once held a quiet but meaningful place in the devotional life of the locality, even if the well itself had already begun to fade from regular use by the early twentieth century.

The well is modest almost to the point of invisibility: a shallow stone-lined hollow, roughly rectangular, measuring around 60 centimetres east to west and 45 centimetres north to south, with a depth of about 25 centimetres. It sits on the south bank of a stream, sheltered by the slope behind it. The single incised cross aside, nothing about it announces its history.