The other two were for ordinary household use; this one, known locally as Tiobrait Well and more formally as St. James' Well, was never to be used for cooking or washing up. The folklore is unambiguous on the point: take the water home for domestic purposes and misfortune will follow. The well itself is roughly six feet in diameter and four feet deep, sheltered by elder, ash, and whitethorn trees, and it carries a cluster of legends that set it apart even among Irish holy wells, of which there are thousands. The water, it is said, will not boil. It moved when someone once profaned it. And a fish appears to those about to be cured.

The cures associated with the well are specifically for the eyes, and to a lesser degree for headaches. The pattern day, tied to the feast of St. James the Greater, fell on the 25th of July, and the most efficacious window for the rounds, the traditional circuits of prayer made at a holy well, was understood to run from midnight on the 24th to midnight on the 25th. Folklore collected from Tervoe National School in 1938 and now preserved in the Schools' Collection describes the ritual in some detail: the pilgrim would wash their eyes with a piece of cloth soaked in the well water, recite five Our Fathers, five Hail Marys, and five Glorias, and after every ten repetitions of this sequence hang a piece of cloth on one of the surrounding trees. Pebbles were used to count the rounds. One named individual, a man called Pat Byrnes, was said to have risen at three in the morning throughout July, repeated the rounds six times across successive days, and recovered from a condition described as turned eyes. The folklore notes that in earlier generations tents were erected at the well for the pattern, and that on one occasion the saint himself was said to have intervened to separate a fight among those gathered.

The well was documented and photographed in 1954 and 1955 by the folklorist Caoimhín Ó Danachair, whose photographs are held by the National Folklore Collection at UCD and can be viewed through the Dúchas archive online. The trees noted in his 1955 description still set the scene: an elder heavy with ivy overhanging the water, whitethorn growing around the edges, and rags left on the branches by those who came seeking, or giving thanks for, a cure. Visiting in July, around the feast of St. James, is in keeping with the tradition; the strips of cloth caught in the branches give the site a texture that photographs taken seven decades ago would still recognise.