Meet the flintstones, a poem

Flintstones.
Oh the Flintstones,
Go meet them
In the city of Bedrock
Where they live.
You've got Fred,
Who's a working class man
Of the fifties America
He works in a stone mine
Rides a dinosaur
And runs his feet on his car.
There's wilma, he's wife,
She's fine, she enjoys some good wine
And betty her friend, who also works from home
And Barney Rubble, her boo,
Who's got it empty, nothing in there it seems, none.
Watch the gang get into adventures
And the wild hijinks
Nothing matters in the end though
Because it's the fifties.
Friendly cops, guaranteed jobs
Cheap houses and lasting appliances
They might be stone-age
But their livelihoods are not.