Fifty-five years later, the same surveyors' successors returned and drew only a broken rectangle, renaming it Correen Friary and adding the cautionary qualifier "site of". By the 1920 edition, the building had been reduced further still, to nothing more than a cross on the map. The progression tells its own quiet story of a place dissolving out of the physical world while somehow holding its name.

What that name means, though, is where things become genuinely uncertain. Poulnalour derives from the Irish Poll na Lobhar, meaning roughly "Leper's Pool" or "Leper's Hole", and this led the researcher Swinfen, writing in 1992, to note a speculative connection to a possible leper hospital somewhere in the vicinity. Medieval leper hospitals were often sited just outside settled communities, sometimes affiliated with religious houses, and the combination of a friary and a leprosy reference in the same small townland is the kind of detail that invites further enquiry. But local tradition offers a different reading of the name. The townland's identity, in that version, comes not from any hospital but from a holy well located roughly 345 metres to the west, the waters of which were believed to have the power to cure leprosy. Holy wells with curative associations were a persistent feature of Irish devotional life, often functioning as sites of pattern days and healing ritual long after formal religious structures nearby had fallen into disuse or been forgotten entirely. Whether the friary, the well, and the leprosy connection all belong to a single story, or whether they have become entangled through the accident of a shared placename, is something the surviving record cannot settle.