There is no water in it now, just an irregular depression in the earth, yet locally it has retained a very specific purpose: people knew it as the wart well, one of those quietly persistent folk-medical sites where a particular ailment was thought curable through the ritual use of the water.

The Irish name recorded for the site is Tober Seanganach, meaning the well of the place abounding in ants, a name that carries its own strangeness, hinting at some older association between the place and its insect inhabitants that has since been lost. The name was recorded by O'Donoghue in 1986, and the tradition of holy wells as sites of localised healing was widespread across Ireland, with different wells credited with curing different conditions: eyes, skin complaints, lameness, and yes, warts. These were not simply superstitions but formed part of a layered practice in which pre-Christian water veneration, early Christian blessing, and practical folk medicine became thoroughly entangled over centuries. A tober, from the Irish tobar, simply means a well or spring, and the naming of such sites was often highly particular, encoding details of the physical landscape or its perceived qualities.

What is left here is modest almost to the point of invisibility: a dry hollow, a piece of corrugated metal, a field. The well's continued local identification, even in its dried-out state, suggests the name and the association with wart-curing have not entirely faded from memory in the area, even if the water itself has long since gone.