It does not announce itself. There is no plaque, no pattern-day gathering, no worn kerbstone where pilgrims might have knelt. The small paved area that marks its approximate location is hemmed in by warehouses, and the well itself is not visible at ground level.

The well appears by name on the Ordnance Survey six-inch maps of both 1839 and 1941, rendered each time in the gothic lettering that cartographers conventionally reserved for antiquities. By the time the 1941 edition was produced, the designation had quietly shifted to include the words "Site of", an acknowledgement that something had already been lost or obscured. The well took its name from a Trinity church, the remains of which have never been precisely located, though it is thought to lie somewhere in the same vicinity, on the north-facing slope adjacent to Wexford Harbour. Holy wells in Ireland were frequently associated with a nearby church or patron saint, their waters believed to carry curative or spiritual properties, but in this case there is no surviving evidence of veneration at any point. No pattern, no rounds, no votive offerings recorded. Whether the well was ever an active site of popular devotion, or simply a water source that acquired a religious name by association with the vanished church, is not known.

What remains is a place that exists more convincingly on old maps than in physical space, a name preserved in cartographic ink while the thing itself slipped quietly underground.