It is modest in scale, an oval, stone-lined basin measuring roughly three-quarters of a metre across and the same in depth, with a stone lintel covering its southern side and a loose arrangement of stones forming its edge. A concrete-set plaque behind the well identifies it as Tober Rí an Domnaig, which might be translated as the Well of the Lord of Sunday, and records that people came here in earlier times to cure sore eyes. That combination of a specific ailment and a specific name gives the place a particularity that sets it apart from the more generalised pattern of veneration that surrounds many Irish holy wells.

What makes this well especially interesting is the story attached to its location. Writing in 1908, a source recorded by Holland preserves a local tradition in which one of the lords of the manor instructed his steward to have the well closed and stopped. The closure did not hold. The water, according to the tradition, simply reappeared roughly sixty yards to the east, at the spot where the well stands today, and people went on paying their rounds there as before. Paying rounds at a holy well refers to the old devotional practice of walking a set circuit around the site a prescribed number of times, often while reciting prayers, a ritual found at sacred water sources across Ireland. The well's apparent defiance of manorial authority became part of its identity, a piece of local memory preserved long enough to reach print at the start of the twentieth century and still visible, in compressed form, on the plaque fixed behind the stonework.