No stone surround, no votive offerings, no worn path across the pasture marks the spot where, within living memory, large crowds gathered every May to pray and seek healing. The well has simply vanished into the grass, its location recoverable only through old measurements: roughly twenty yards south of the nearby church, ten yards west of the townland boundary.

The well was dedicated to St Lassar, an early Irish female saint, and its character was notably informal by the standards of such sites. Many holy wells operated according to a fixed pattern of rounds, a ritual circumambulation of the well performed on a particular feast day, but this one had no appointed day. Instead, people came throughout the month of May, drawn by a tradition of healing that left physical traces in the form of crutches, the discarded walking aids of those who believed themselves cured. This detail comes from a 1934 account by Bowman, who recorded the recollection of a local man, P. McCarthy, described only as an aged resident at the time of writing. The crutches are gone, the crowds are gone, and by the time the site was formally recorded, no physical remains could be identified at all.

That absence is itself part of what makes the site worth knowing about. Across Ireland, holy wells survive in considerable numbers, often marked by rags tied to overhanging branches, stone basins, or small folk shrines. The Knockmanagh well belongs instead to a different and less visible category: places that were once genuinely animated by communal religious practice and have since left no trace on the landscape whatsoever, surviving only in a sentence or two of recorded memory.